Blindsided
by sugarplumdreams
Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are holding the future of Happy Endings in their hands. Everything is at stake, and with time running out and the two of them being endlessly stubborn, it's going to take a surprising and unlikely ally to help them save Storybrooke and all the realms beyond...and in the process, maybe even help them save each other. AU.
1. Part 1

A/N: Don't hate me, I know I should _not_ be starting a new fic, especially with the monstrosity that is A Home for My Heart, but my muse could not be denied! I'm excited about this one, it's a completely different tone from AHFMH and it's not as drawn out or intricate a tale, but I hope you still enjoy it!

**One**

When Emma walked into the Sheriff's station that morning she was hoping for a quiet day. She wanted to stay in and finally catch up on the ton of paperwork that had accumulated on her desk, especially since David never did his share – she rolled her eyes at that. In a town like Storybrooke, she should have known better than to hope for a quiet day.

She was humming softly to herself as she stepped into the main office. David must have been somewhere in the building, or had stopped in earlier than her and left recently, because the lights were already on but he was nowhere in sight. She casually glanced over to the cells, scanning her surroundings out of habit, and then froze abruptly.

Two faces were staring back at her, both pressed between the bars as two sets of forearms were braced on the horizontal metal piece that stretched across the middle. One face she was far too familiar with and the other…made her eyes narrow in confusion. It was a face she was seeing for the first time, she was sure of it, but it was oddly familiar.

Emma shifted her body, brow quirking as she turned towards the cells. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them. Then the lips curved up on the face she knew best.

"Hoo- Killian." She corrected herself as she took a step towards him, wary of the stranger in the neighboring cell.

"Morning, darling," he said cheerfully.

Her face was careful not to betray the quick little flutter that happened in her belly when he'd smiled at her. "Do I even want to know?" she sighed, eyeing the cut above his brow and the bruise forming along his jaw.

He made a face, a sarcastic little smirk before nodding his head to the left. "Ask _him_," he replied, his face settling into a scowl.

She slanted a look at the younger man and when their eyes met, something jolted down her spine, some feeling she couldn't quite place, but it went as quickly as it had come and Emma frowned. She moved to stand in front of him, unsettled by the way he watched her so intently.

"Hi," she said, noticing he sported a bruise under his eye along with a split lip. When he didn't answer her brow rose again. "What's your name, kid?"

"I'm not a kid, I'm 22," he snapped.

"_Oh-kay._" Her head tilted to the side at his tone and she studied his fiercely blue eyes. "Well, 22…do you want to tell me how you ended up in a jail cell next to this guy?"

He contemplated her for a second, lips pursing, then he shook his head. "Nope, not particularly."

"Are you sure you're 22? Because that 14 year-old attitude of yours suggests otherwise," she spoke irritably.

He sneered at her then, mouth twisting up much in the same way as the pirate's had. It put her back up. Punk kid.

Hook chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. "Bloody nuisance, isn't he? I caught him sneaking aboard my ship trying to steal from me."

22 rolled his eyes and glared at them but didn't say anything.

"Wait, if- if he was stealing from you-"

"I wasn't stealing!" he cried defensively, cutting her off.

"Bollocks! I caught you!" Hook argued.

She held a hand up to him, warning him to be quiet as she looked at 22 – whom, for some reason, she was very much annoyed with already. "We're done, you had your chance to speak and you didn't take it." She focused back on Hook. "How did _you_ end up in here?"

"How do you think, darling?"

She closed her eyes briefly and pressed her lips together as she nodded in understanding. "David."

"He caught us tussling on the docks, and when he tried to pull us apart…" He grinned at the memory. "I may have accidentally caught him in the face with my fist."

"'Accidentally?'" she asked knowingly.

There was a smug smile on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Just what she needed, a grumpy David in the office all morning.

"Assaulting a police officer is a serious crime." The voice came from behind her.

When she turned, she saw her father leaning against the threshold of the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said to her, mouth curving up in greeting before fixing his eyes on Hook. "Did you have a good night's sleep, _mate_?"

The way his expression changed amused her, as did Hook rolling his eyes when she looked back at him.

"Never better…_mate_," he sneered back.

The corners of her mouth threatened to twitch up into a smile at the vehemence in his voice. She had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from doing so as she walked over to join David, knowing he wouldn't appreciate her entertainment over the on-going bickering between him and the pirate.

She gladly took the cup from him when he offered it to her. "Thanks," she mumbled, taking a sip as her eyes widened at the sight of the darkening bruise between the corner of his mouth and his jaw. Her breath came out on a whoosh and she made a sympathetic face. "Ouch."

"Tell me about it," David grumbled.

"So how long are you going to keep him?"

"You can't keep me locked up because I didn't _do_ anything," Hook interjected with an audible sigh. "I already told you, it was an accident-"

"Tell that to my face," David muttered, loud enough only for his daughter to hear.

Her lips twitched again and she briefly touched a hand to his arm.

"This is a violation of my rights," Hook huffed. "An abuse of power!"

"Oh, quit your whining!" David called out, pushing off the doorframe to retrieve a set of keys from his back pocket and passing them to Emma. "You do it, I'm likely to clock him and unfortunately, I've got my badge on."

She chuckled and shook her head as she moved towards the cell, jingling the keys at Hook.

"About bloody time!" he said exasperatedly, shifting back so she could unlock the door and slide it out of the way.

He paused before stepping out, bracing his arm against the open gate and wiggling his eyebrows at her. "'Ello love," he smirked, his voice low and seductive. "Come here often?"

There was a snort in the other cell at that and Emma rolled her eyes, fully in agreement that Hook was impossible more often than not, though she couldn't stop her lips from curving up. "Seriously?"

He reached out to playfully fluff her hair from her shoulder.

"_Hey_," David barked in warning. "Hand _off_ my kid or I swear to God I'll take this stupid badge off and beat you senseless."

Emma halted, head turning to her father. Her heart squeezed sweetly at the sight of him in his battle stance – feet shoulder-width apart and hands fisted at his sides. 28 years later and he was still fighting men off of her.

"I'd like to see you try," Hook muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" David growled.

Emma glanced back at Hook, scrunching her face and shaking her head. "No, you really don't," she cautioned.

He quirked his brow at her and he leaned in so that their faces were close. "I'd weather any storm for you, darling."

This time she was the one who snorted. "You're ridiculous." She reached for his arm, pulling him out of the cell and sending him off. "Get out of here before you give David an aneurysm."

He turned, walking backwards so that he could watch her as he left. "In the event you weren't aware, you're quite a lovely sight in the morning."

Emma didn't even bother to warn him before he bumped solidly into David, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl furrowing his brow. She had to give Hook credit because he didn't even flinch under David's narrowed gaze.

"That scowl isn't very becoming of you, your Highness. Perhaps a nap would make you more agreeable, hmm?"

She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the smile but the hitch of her shoulders betrayed her silent laugh. David's eyebrow went up, completely not amused, and Hook bravely reached out to dust imaginary lint off of her father's shoulder. Emma read the anger on David's face and had to commend him for his restraint.

"Have a wonderful day, _mate_," Hook chuckled, bowing with theatrical flourish before continuing towards the exit.

"Hey!" said a voice suddenly. "What about me?"

Emma glanced over her shoulder, she'd forgotten about the young man. "Killian, wait!" she called, positioning herself at the half-way point between him and 22. "Are you pressing charges?"

He stopped at the doorway, turning in such a way that reminded her of when he'd looked back at her in Rumplestiltskin's cell before he'd left. Only this time his glaring eyes weren't for her. Still, her stomach clenched involuntarily at the sight of it. Reflexively Emma then looked at 22 as well, studying his bright blue eyes and unruly dark hair. When Hook sighed, her eyes went back to him. There was another quick little jolt down her spine though she wasn't sure why.

"Nay," he said quietly after a moment, something briefly softening his expression as he watched the lad. "Just keep him away from my ship," he added pointedly.

His eyes flickered to hers again, holding her gaze for a few heartbeats. She swallowed thickly but planted her feet, resisting the urge to back away. He smirked, nodding his head knowingly before disappearing from sight.

David was frowning at her with his hands on his waist when she looked at him. Her smile was tight as she averted her gaze and went about unlocking their second prisoner from his cell.

"You heard him, stay away from his ship," Emma warned.

He rolled his eyes at her and moved out into the main room. "Aye, aye Sheriff," he saluted mockingly.

Her brow knitted at his words, an itch forming between her shoulder blades. She watched as he walked towards the door, turning the last few feet and walking backwards as he saluted David as well. "See you around, Deputy."

Then he was gone too, leaving Emma with David and an uncomfortable feeling nagging at the base of her neck. "What's his deal?" she asked, eyes still on the door.

"The kid?" David replied, moving to sit at his desk.

"He's not a kid, he's 22," Emma murmured absentmindedly.

"What?" He leaned back with a sigh, propping his feet up as he looked at her.

"Hmm?" she answered, confused by his expectant look. "Oh, nothing. He said he was 22, but he didn't tell me his name. He's kind of a punk."

David chuckled. "Tell me about it, caught me in the ribs with his elbow last night…said I deserved it for meddling in other people's business."

Emma's lips pursed as she contemplated him. "What did he steal from Hook's?"

"Nothing, Hook apprehended him before he made it into the Captain's quarters. I was out doing my rounds when I saw them on the docks, yelling and causing a ruckus."

"And the rest, as they say, is history?" she asked.

"Basically," David agreed, resting his hands atop his head. "Kid's name is Michael LeBlanc, he checked into Granny's yesterday, paid in cash." He reached for a file on his desk then offered it up to her. "I did a background check but…nothing came up."

She frowned but didn't open the folder. If David hadn't found anything, there'd be nothing worth reading. "At all?"

"Nothing. No address, no telephone number, no emergency contact, no paper trail…it's like the kid popped out of thin air."

"Or the name he gave is an alias."

"You know better," David chided, though there was no heat in his tone. "He ended up _here_ of all places, Emma."

She scrunched her nose at that, unable to stop the worry any longer since he'd officially voiced his own. "Could still be an alias," she shrugged.

"I don't like him," he said after a moment.

"What's to like?" Emma shrugged. "Strangers in Storybrooke tend to make everyone nervous."

"Not him…your…pirate."

Emma stared at him blankly, unsure she'd heard him correctly. When his expression remained the same and she realized he was being serious, she chortled at him. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she laughed. "He is _not_ my pirate-"

"You look at him like he is," he stated.

She gaped at him, mildly offended. "I do _not_!"

"You do so! And I don't like the way _he_ looks at _you_ either."

"No offense," she smiled. "But I don't think you'd like the way anyone looks at me."

"Of course not," he agreed. "I'm your father."

That made her smile widen and her heart squeeze again. She closed the distance between them, stepping behind his chair to place her hand on his head. He froze at her touch and she knew it was because she was rarely so affectionate – it was something she was working on. She rested her chin atop her hand and stayed that way with him for a few moments until he relaxed.

"Don't worry about the pirate," she told him softly after awhile. "Worry about what we're going to do with that kid."

"I'm a good multitasker, I can worry about both."

Her lips curved up and she squeezed his shoulder before heading into her office, knowing he'd still worry more about one than the other. She thought that was alright though, that's why they were a team, and if she was going to be honest, there was a part of her that ached with so much joy that she _finally _had a father to look after her…and be overbearing and fiercely protective and all those things that she had missed growing up.

So she'd let him worry about the pirate and she would worry about their new guest – she caught sight of the stack of files on her desk and sighed – well…_after_ she got through the paperwork.

* * *

Michael sat brooding on a park bench long after he'd left the station. He hadn't wanted to go back to Granny's right away, he'd been too restless. Half of his face still ached from where he'd been hit and his split lip was throbbing like a bitch.

He shook his head. _Damn pirate_.

The man was stubborn and infuriating…the both of them actually, he thought, thinking of the Sheriff too. It didn't surprise him, all things considering, but it amused him to no end…and frustrated him as well. He didn't have a lot of time and they were worse off than he imagined.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket, hand closing tightly around a round object as he thought about what had transpired in the Sheriff's station. They'd been wrong; he'd managed to scrape away with something before he'd been caught. It was risky, he knew, but it needed to be done. He drew his hand out and stared at the golden compass that fit most of his palm.

His lips curved up slightly as he stroked his fingertips over the glass that protected the needle, it was an almost affectionate gesture. He sighed and looked back out at the park.

He had a lot of work to do.


	2. Part 2

A/N: Can you tell I'm digging writing this? A day between updates, SMH. Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews and the favorites and all that :) I'm so attached already to this fic and I'm really glad it's sparked some interest. Leave me your thoughts on who you think Michael is and what his agenda is! I love reading your theories!

**Two**

Michael walked into Granny's Diner a few evenings later with a scowl on his face and his thoughts far away. He was at exactly the same place he had been when he'd first arrived: nowhere. He was getting nowhere and it was _frustrating_. He couldn't afford to waste anymore time, he needed a plan and he needed it fast.

He took his usual seat at the counter and absentmindedly drummed his fingers in front of him while he waited for Ruby to come by. There was a rustle beside him that had him turning his head and he froze in place as a pair of hazel eyes stared up him.

They sat in silence for a few moments and Michael didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until the boy smiled and it came out on a _whoosh_.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

Michael blinked several times before he'd managed to compose himself. "Ah…hi."

"I'm Henry."

He held his hand out as he introduced himself and it took Michael a second before he tentatively reached out to grasp it. "Hi Henry, I'm…Michael."

"Here you go, kiddo," Ruby's voice spoke up, disrupting the moment and placing a mug of hot cocoa in front of Henry. "Extra cinnamon," she smiled.

"Thanks Ruby!"

"Usual?" she asked Michael, flickering her cautious eyes to his and reminding him that strangers weren't very welcome in this town.

"Have you ever had cinnamon with hot chocolate?" Henry wondered, drawing his attention away before he could place his order.

He smiled. He couldn't help himself. "Is that your drink of choice?" He gestured at the cup.

"It's the only way to have it. My mom likes it this way too. So does my grams."

"Usual for food," he told Ruby. "But I'll have what he's having."

She nodded curtly. "Coming right up."

"You're not from here, are you?" Henry asked.

Michael's back went up but he tried to keep his expression relaxed. "No," he said carefully. "I'm just visiting."

"Do you need some help?"

He tilted his head at him curiously, eyes narrowing as he contemplated him. "With what?"

Henry shrugged but kept his smile in place, his big doe-eyes looking up at him expectantly. It made him nervous. Thankfully Ruby chose that time to reappear and placed his drink in front of him, giving him an extra bit of time – just enough for him to collect himself again.

"Alright, let's see what all the fuss is about." He grasped the handle of the mug and was raising it to his mouth when Henry held his out for a toast.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," he grinned.

Michael studied him, this boy with his knowing smile and his all-too perceptive eyes, and lightly clinked their cups together. "Cheers."

* * *

That was how Emma saw them when she came into the diner – sharing a toast – and it made her stop before she made it all the way inside. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the two of them together, an itch forming between her shoulder blades, but she merely chalked it up to nerves since he was the current town stranger and all. What else could it be?

They laughed about something and when Henry drew his mug away from his mouth, he had a smear of whip cream on his nose. It made her smile – until Michael reached out with a napkin to wipe it off.

Too close. Too close to her son.

"Henry," she called, straining to keep the Mama Bear tone from her voice.

His head snapped up at the sound of his name and he grinned, waving as he hopped off the bar stool to ambush her with a hug. "Hi Mom!"

She wrapped her arms around him, body sagging in relief when he was safely away from Michael. "Hey kid," she answered, stroking a hand over his head.

She glanced back up and found Michael's gaze fixated on them. He smirked and it tugged at her mind, but she couldn't bring the thought to focus. He turned back to his drink and Emma knelt down so that she was closer to Henry's eye-level.

"Grab your stuff and wait for me outside," she told him, tone deceptively calm.

Henry's brow wrinkled. "But I'm not done with my hot chocolate."

"That's okay, we can make some at home…plus Mary Margaret's making cookies, don't you want to help?" The lie came abruptly and she tried to keep it from her face. She'd have to text Mary Margaret in a few minutes to make sure they were on the same page before they got to the apartment.

"Chocolate chip?" he beamed.

"Is there any other kind?" She tapped a finger to his nose affectionately. "Go get your backpack."

He was off like a shot, reaching under the counter for his school bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Bye Ruby! Bye Granny!" He turned to Michael and smiled again. "Enjoy your stay, Michael."

"Thanks, I will," he replied, swiveling on the stool so he could watch Henry leave.

Henry stopped a few steps later and faced him again. "How long will you be here?"

His eyes flickered up to Emma's, held for a few beats before returning to Henry's. "Just for a bit."

Henry thought about that for a moment, lips pursing. Then he nodded, appearing to be satisfied with his answer. "See you around!"

"Bye," he smiled. "It was nice meeting you…Henry."

Something crossed his expression at that moment, something that softened his face, and Emma scowled deeply in confusion. Then Henry was standing in front of her, distracting her, and she nudged him towards the door.

"I'll be out in a second, I just have to pay for your cocoa," she told him.

"'Kay," he answered, making the bell chime as he stepped outside.

She waited until she could see him through the window, making sure he was standing on the sidewalk and was well out of harm's way – or in this case, eavesdropping distance. She crossed the room to where Michael sat, leaning against the counter on her arm with her other hand on her waist.

He didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge her as he sipped at his drink…and it grated on her nerves. "You're still here," she commented after a minute.

"Am I breaking some kind of Storybrooke law, Sheriff?"

He spared her a glance then, brow quirked with his face set in boredom. She studied him, handsome young man with his bright blue eyes and dark hair hanging over his brow. Again, something tugged at the back of her mind, and again, she couldn't bring the thought to focus.

"Wouldn't be the first time," she retorted. _Screw niceties._

He chuckled, toasting her mockingly before turning away to finish off his hot chocolate. "Last I checked this was a free country. I'm allowed to stay as long as I like."

"What brings you to Storybrooke anyway?" she asked.

"None of your business."

"I'm the town Sheriff," she snapped. "Everything is my business."

"Lighten up, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack," Michael mumbled.

"Look," she hissed, lowering her voice. "We're a quiet town. We don't get a lot of visitors so strangers tend to make us a little nervous. If you're looking for trouble, I highly suggest you find it elsewhere because the only trouble you'll find is with _me_, and trust me when I say…I am the _last_ person you want to piss off."

"I have to say, it suits you…'I'm the _last _person you want to piss off' in that commanding Sheriff voice…" He raised his cup to her again. "Chills, really…scares the crap out of me."

Her brow furrowed, his words triggering a sharp little jolt down her spine. Why was that…so familiar? Then Ruby was setting a plate in front of him.

"Mmm," he said. "Wait, can you pack this up for me?"

She gave him an annoyed look, politeness gone now that Henry wasn't there. She took the food back and nodded at Emma.

"Hey Ems, hot chocolate?"

"No," she shook her head as she reached into her pocket for her wallet. "Just Henry's."

Michael dropped some bills on the counter before she could. "Don't worry about it, it's on me Sheriff."

Emma scowled and started to protest when he swiveled to face her, bracing his arm against the counter so that their stances were mirrored.

"Think of it like a peace offering." He slanted his head at her. "I'm not here to hurt anybody."

She crossed her arms defensively. "Just here to cause trouble, then?"

He laughed lightly again. "I suppose that depends on your definition of trouble."

"Why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what you're doing here? If you have nothing to hide, that shouldn't be hard to do, right?"

"You're really nosy for a Sheriff," he mused.

He said it so plainly, so straight-faced, it would have been funny if it didn't make her want to pull her hair out.

"Mom, what are you doing?" a familiar voice asked. "I thought we were leaving."

She glanced behind her, eyes meeting with Henry's then double-taking to Hook's when she realized he was standing next to her son. His blue eyes bored into hers, as they always seemed to do, and her mind abruptly went blank.

Ruby returned to the counter, paper bag in hand. She smiled tightly as she held it out to Michael who rose as he took it from her.

He made a face, a sarcastic puckering of his lips meant to irritate her. "Thanks beautiful."

Ruby rolled her eyes and tersely walked off, leaving him softly chuckling after her.

"Hate to break up this little powwow," he gestured between all of them then. "But I've some trouble to stir up."

He gave Emma a pointed look then winked at Henry as he passed by and headed for the door. They all watched him leave then stood in tense silence awhile after he was gone.

"What was that about?" Henry asked, looking up at her.

"Nothing." She touched a hand to his shoulder. "Come on, let's go home."

"Emma, may I speak with you for a moment?" Hook caught her arm before she could get too far.

She tried not to jolt at the heat that seemed to sear through her jacket when he'd touched her.

"Of course," she answered smoothly, ruffling Henry's hair. "Go wait by the door, kid."

He rolled his eyes in the way that children often did when adults thought they didn't know something was up then tried to keep whatever it was from them. He did as he was told though, sulking over to stand by the exit, his pouting expression making Emma smile fondly.

"Is everything alright?" Hook asked quietly, pulling her focus to him.

Emma shifted out of his grasp, putting a more comfortable distance between them as if that would help the anxiety in her stomach now that Henry wasn't there to act as a buffer. "Nothing I can't handle," she answered.

Her eyes searched his worried face. She almost sighed. Even brooding he was handsome. Bastard. She'd never tell him though – God no – but once in awhile, in the privacy of her mind, she allowed herself to think it.

Hook stared at her silently, his mouth a hard line as he contemplated her. He rubbed at the scruff on his jaw and she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets when her fingers itched to do the same. She noted that his eyes were deeply blue today, the color of the sea on the tail-end of a storm. He really needed a haircut though, his hair was falling over his brow and-

Her body jerked in response at that thought then her head tilted at him while her brows pinched together.

"What?" he asked, confused by her expression.

She wasn't sure, and she shook her head to tell him so, but something was nagging at her, making the itch between her should blades intensify. Then the feeling was gone.

"Nothing," she answered finally, catching Henry giving her an aggravated look. She smiled again and turned back to Hook. "I have to go."

He nodded and retreated from her, taking a step back. She could feel his eyes on her the entire way to the door, it was unnerving. Her hands clenched in tight fists in her jacket were the only signs of her agitation.

"Bye Killian!" Henry waved as she looked at him one last time, watching his hand come up to wave back.

"Emma," he called as she was moving through the doorway.

She turned and noted his suddenly unreadable expression.

"If you need anything…"

"I know," she replied, her insides squeezing warmly. Her lips curved up in the softest of ways. "Thanks." Then she forced herself out the door behind her son.

* * *

He stood across the street, arms crossed over his chest as he observed them through the window. He scowled – watching the pirate reach out for Emma's arm, watching Emma pull away from him, watching the concerned look cross his face, watching her leave...Christ he wanted to bang his head against a wall. Repeatedly.

He ducked back around the building when the door of the diner opened, moving out of sight as Emma and Henry left. He counted to five then peeked back around, eyes following them down the street as they headed home.

Then the door of the diner opened again but this time it was Killian who walked out. He stood on the sidewalk, staring in the direction that Emma and Henry had gone in. After a moment he sighed, reluctantly going back into Granny's, but not before glancing over his shoulder a final time.

Michael smirked, shaking his head. The man was a Goddamn puppy, he'd be easy – Michael didn't need to worry about him…now the Sheriff on the other hand. He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as he thought, planning his next move. Absentmindedly he looked up at the big clock atop the library across the street.

_Tick-tock. _

It seemed to taunt him, reminding him that he was running out of time.

He exhaled and pushed off the side of the building, then his eyes caught sight of the Deputy about a block down. His back was turned to Michael and he had his phone pressed to his ear.

Michael's brow rose and a wickedly mischievous smile slowly bloomed on his face. He started for him, timing it perfectly so that when David tucked the phone back into his jacket and turned, the two of them collided.

"Hey!" Michael spat. "Watch it!"

"Sorry, I-" David reached out, steadying him, then frowned. "You."

He held his arms out as if to present himself. "Me."

"What are you still doing here?"

"Everybody keeps asking me that," he replied, feigning offense.

"Maybe because everybody wants you gone," David mumbled dryly.

"Mmm," he agreed. "I figured as much…" He leaned forward as if sharing a secret with him. "But I'm not going anywhere yet."

"What business do you even have here?"

He shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's none of yours." He added the smug smile because he knew it would grate on David's nerves.

"You can't keep your secrets forever, kid," David warned, eyes narrowing.

"I'll keep that mind," he answered, starting to walk away then saluting him to further annoy him. "Carry on, Deputy!"

He turned and felt David looking after him as he strolled down the street. He imagined him shaking his head and Michael grinned. He started whistling as he turned a corner, hand moving into his pocket to retrieve something. He pulled out the phone, tossing it into the air playfully then catching it.

"Finally," he muttered. "Some progress."

Michael unlocked it, snorting at how easy it was to guess David's password. He tapped a few icons, searching through his contacts. When he found the one he was looking for, he smiled, reading the information on the screen.

_Emma Cell._


	3. Part 3

A/N: Holy crap I can't stop writing this LOL My muse for this fic is fierce, it refuses to be denied. I'm switching gears for a bit though and going back to work on AHFMH because I've severely neglected it this past week so this one probably won't get updated for a few days, sorry in advance! Though I'm so addicted to it I may just push back AHFMH – BUT I'M GOING TO TRY REALLY HARD NOT TO. Thank you endlessly for the reviews and sharing your theories with me! :) I love hearing what you all have to say! I think things are a little clearer in this part, but I'll leave that for you to decide ;)

**Three**

It was a dangerous game Michael was playing, upsetting the balance of things could prove to be negatively consequential, but laying low was no longer an option. He had to speed things along and in order to get that done he needed a more hands-on approach. The only bad thing was that he kept running into people he didn't want to run into.

Literally.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" she asked.

His smile was tight as he helped put back the items that had fallen out of her shopping basket when they'd run into each other. He avoided looking at her, he wasn't entirely sure he could or even that he'd be prepared to.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she insisted. "It was my fault…I should have been looking where I was going."

The sweetness of her voice made his stomach clench and when he had no choice _but_ to meet her eyes as he handed her back the basket, he found a lump of emotion lodging itself into his throat. He pushed it back, fighting hard against it and steeling his expression so as not to betray any of his internal turmoil.

"Oh," she said in surprise, her eyes narrowing slightly and her head tilting to the side as she studied him.

He swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze away, gesturing at the basket. "It's alright. I wasn't looking either."

A crease formed on her brow and she chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, I have to ask…have- have we met before?"

Michael looked at her, at the gentle roundness of her chin, and reflexively almost reached up to touch his own. Instead he shook his head, tried to keep his face neutral. "No. I'm not from here."

He saw her eyes flash at that, knew that she was worrying about a stranger in Storybrooke, and he felt his back beginning to go up.

"What brings you to Storybrooke?"

She said it so kindly, without even the slightest bit of hostility the others had made him privy to the past week. It was like a balm to his usual defensiveness. He shouldn't have been surprised though, she tended to have that calming affect on people. She'd always had the biggest heart.

"I'm just passing through, I-" He'd almost slipped, almost told her why he'd come – how he'd need to help- He shook his head again. He'd let his guard down too much. "I'm just passing through."

He could tell she didn't like his answer but she didn't press on the subject.

"Well, enjoy your stay," she smiled softly.

"Thanks," he answered, the corners of his mouth tugging up. He was just about to leave when he saw a small yellow bag just behind her. "Oh, here," he said as he stooped to retrieve it. "Missed one."

He stopped abruptly when he realized what they were. Chocolate chips. Everything inside of him squeezed.

"Are you…making cookies?" He couldn't keep from asking.

She slanted her head at him again. "Yes, actually…how did you know?"

Michael handed her back the bag and motioned at the basket once more. She looked down and noted all the things she had in there.

"Oh," she laughed, visibly relaxing. "Yeah. I made some yesterday for my grandson. They're his favorite but he goes through them like water and he asked if I would make some more…and well, he's really hard to say no to."

She'd never know that he was warring against a deep sadness that was welling up in him. "I think grandmas make the best cookies," he replied quietly, forcing himself to smile.

"What kind of cookies does your grandma make?" she wondered.

His body jolted at the question, his hands balling into fists inside his pockets. "She- she doesn't anymore…she…passed away."

He didn't know why he said it, why he was being honest. It was dangerous, yes, to be revealing too much of the truth, but speaking the words themselves was also quite painful because he'd been so close to her – to his grandmother. When she stepped forward to touch his arm sympathetically, his throat closed up, the grief suddenly fresh and overwhelming.

"I'm so sorry," she spoke.

Too much. Too much. He was choking. He was drowning. He stepped back, needing some breathing room. "It's okay." His voice was quiet.

He couldn't meet her eyes anymore but he could feel her watching him.

"Here," she said suddenly, and he looked up to see her rifling through her bag. She pulled out a package – a small box with a ribbon tied around it – and held it out for him.

"Wh- what's this?" His voice was raspy as he took it from her.

"Cookies. You take them." She shrugged and smiled again. "I was going to bring some to my husband but…I'm making more tonight, he can wait."

Michael's hands trembled as he held the gift. His heart ached when he looked at her again. "Thanks."

"I'm sure they're not as good as your grandmother's but-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I'm sure they're perfect. Thank you."

She held her hand out to him, her lips curving up. "It was nice to meet you…"

"Michael," he filled in, taking her hand and squeezing gently.

"Michael," she repeated. "I'm Mary Margaret."

His smile mirrored hers as he backed away to leave. He shook the package at her. "Thanks again."

Before she could say anything else, he turned and headed for the register. He held the box tightly to him, like his most valued possession, while he waited to pay. His thoughts were far away, emotions a jumbled mess inside him. He couldn't take much more of this.

_Focus. Focus, Michael._

He centered himself, breathing deeply to calm the anxiety just under his breastbone. His eyes dropped to the box again, already knowing how delicious the cookies inside were. They were best warm, fresh out of the oven so that the chocolate was still gooey. God, he needed to finish what he'd come to do and get the hell out of here.

"Just the dog whistle?" the cashier asked.

The question put him back on track, his face settling into determined lines. He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, that's it."

It was almost show time.

* * *

"David, I'm going to kill you," Emma muttered, her breath leaving her body as she was jerked forward for the _millionth_ time that afternoon. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! _Slow down!_" she cried, leashes biting into her skin as four big dogs eagerly trotted ahead of her.

She had no idea why she agreed to do this for him when he'd texted her earlier – _**Hi sweetheart. Need a favor. Tied up, Shelter needs a dog-walker. Bring you donuts Friday**_ – okay, so it was the donuts, she was a sucker for donuts, but maybe…it was also because he rarely asked her for anything and she was having a moment of weakness. But never again though, she'd learned her lesson.

"Better be a big-ass donut," she scowled, practically jogging to keep up with the dogs.

Then they all abruptly stopped at a large tree. _Another victim_, Emma thought as she shook her head while they relieved themselves.

"Swan."

She turned at the voice and was not prepared to see him strolling along the curved path of park. She was never prepared to see him at all. He had this way about him, a natural charisma that just drew her in when she desperately didn't want it to and it irritated her to no end.

"Hook," she replied, cursing the unease that settled onto her shoulders.

"Is everything alright?" His face was concerned.

Hers was confused. "Yes?" she said slowly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I've no clue…you're the one who told me it was urgent I meet you here."

"What?" her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

The dogs barked then, sensing a new playmate and tugged Emma closer to him, not giving a care whether she wanted to be or not. The force of the four of them combined sent her careening into Hook and she gasped as their bodies bumped solidly. He smiled, and she knew it was in amusement because she had shoved him away lightly, defensively. Yup, she was going to murder her father.

"Sorry," she huffed. "They're monsters."

He chuckled and knelt down to pet the big fluffy one that was nuzzling at his leg. Emma tried not to find it endearing at the way he smiled so cheerfully.

"Awfully cute to be called a monster though, aren't you mate?" he asked, laughing when another one jumped playfully at him and licked his face.

She scowled, at him and at the fluttering he was causing in her stomach. _Stupid, attractive, animal-loving pirate. _Then he turned those eyes – those sea-blue eyes – on her once more and again she had the distinct thought that she was not prepared for him. She would _never_ be prepared, especially not when everything inside of her just naturally _lurched_ towards him.

Emma took a step back instinctively, self-preservation at the forefront of her mind. She cleared her throat and shifted nervously from foot to foot as he rose again.

"You sent me a note," he told her.

"What? No I didn't. What are you-"

The chaos that ensued cut her off. The dogs began barking wildly, straining on their leashes and pulling in every which way. Both she and Hook were looking around to see what was causing all the ruckus but as far as they could tell there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"What did you do?" Emma asked accusingly as she tried to hang on to the dogs, muscles singing in pain from the sharp yanks.

"Me?" He raised a brow at her. "I've just yet arrived, I've nothing to do with this- what did _you_ do?" He pointed his finger at her.

"Nothing," she answered. "I- _whoa_!" She pitched forward, Hook instinctively catching her around the waist to steady her.

"Here," he said, taking hold of two of the leashes. "Let me help-"

She squirmed, trying to get loose. "No, it's okay. I've got it. I just need-"

Then the dogs went _nuts_ and Hook and Emma worked together to try to keep them restrained. There were curses, flustered looks, and just general confusion as to what exactly was happening.

Emma's body was then forcibly turned to face Hook's all the way and she felt a painful tightening around her legs. "What the- oh shit!" When she looked down, she saw that dogs had somehow managed to tangle them up in the leashes.

"Wait a minute- hang on- just-" Hook cut out when the largest dog collided into his legs and he felt his balance give way.

He cursed again, Emma shrieked and their arms tightened around each other as they went down in a tangle of limbs, Hook shifting her and taking the brunt of the fall so she didn't have to. He groaned beneath her - breath coming out in short, gasping puffs.

"Holy crap! Are you okay?" She tried to move and found it next to impossible because of the leashes wrapped tightly around them.

He groaned again, face twisting as he grimaced at the pain and the lack of oxygen he was getting due to her weight directly on his lungs. "Can't. Breathe," he wheezed.

Emma wiggled, desperately wanting to get away. They were too close, there was too much of him everywhere. "I know, I'm sorry! I'm trying!"

Two of the dogs pounced on them then, barking joyously, sniffing at them, licking at their faces and trying to worm their way between them. One of the dogs was nuzzling her head and it tickled, making her thrash violently against Hook.

"Cut it out!" she said between laughs. "Stop it!"

But the dog didn't listen so she kept giggling and wriggling and then Hook's moan, combined with the abrupt slide of his hand to her hip, broke into her thoughts.

"Emma," he said breathily. "Stop moving."

Something about the way he said it made her panic and while she tried to still herself, the nerves in her stomach made her involuntarily squirm against him. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I'm trying to get us untangled!"

He cursed under his breath when she shifted once more and solved the matter by simply rolling them over.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, reflexively trying to buck him off.

"_Stop…moving._" He commanded through gritted teeth. His voice seemed…pained to her ears.

When he dropped his forehead to her shoulder she froze, all thoughts slipping from her mind. Now it was she breathing in shallow gasps, though she couldn't be sure if it was due to _his_ weight now on _her_ or because her senses were suddenly in overdrive.

"Bloody torment you are," he grumbled.

"What?" Her brow furrowed. Her brain was clouded by his scent, by the feel of him, and she resisted the urge to roll them back over so that she could _breathe_. "No I'm not."

"Aye," he insisted, lifting head so that he could look at her. "You are."

The air crackled between them when their eyes met, the spark of it jolting down her spine. "What are you talking about? I-"

Her eyes widened at the pointed look on his face, it sobered her enough to realize how…_intimately_ they were pressed together. "_Shit_," she cursed, closing her eyes in mortification as the blood rose into her cheeks.

He chuckled and she felt the rumbling from his chest reverberate through hers. Their hearts were beating in sync, she could feel it, and though it made her restless, she forced herself to keep still.

"Emma Swan, are you blushing?"

"No," she snapped, keeping her eyes closed.

She felt his fingertips brush over her warm cheek and her eyes snapped open in surprise, her body shuddering at the same moment.

"Aye," he murmured. "You are."

Their eyes held and she was mesmerized by how darkly blue his had gotten. She saw his desire reflected there and it overwhelmed her, frightened her, because it was exactly what was raging in her – and had been from the very beginning. She'd fought so hard against it, denied it with everything she could, but now, with it almost tangible between them, she could no longer ignore it.

Still, she moved her head back and forth. "You have to move," her voice was a whispered plea.

"I can't."

His eyes flickered to her lips and her breath came out on sigh. "Liar."

He smiled and then met her eyes again with his. She gulped, impatiently shifting beneath his weight when he reached up to trace along her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Hook-" She protested.

"Easy," he breathed. "I've got you." And then he was lowering his head. "Just a taste...just one."

Her mind was reeling, made foggy by the seductive lull of his voice, the warmth of his breath against her mouth, and the solid _realness_ of him atop her.

Just one kiss. Just one.

How many times had she wondered what that would be like? How many times had she imagined it? The desire to finally _know_, to finally _experience_, made her close her eyes once more. She couldn't help it, she couldn't resist. He was distracting, irresistible, persistent…and she was so absorbed in him that every excuse and objection slipped effortlessly from her mind.

Then he was cursing again, jerking away from her as one of the dogs eagerly nuzzled between them and began lapping at both of their faces, whining and barking for attention.

* * *

Michael stood in the shadows of a grove of trees, quite a distance away, cursing from the large trunk he was leaning against while he watched the scene play out. Damn dog. They were so close! He scrubbed a hand over his face in aggravation. The moment was ruined; they wouldn't get it back…at least not today.

He sulked as they continued to try to free themselves from the dogs. They rolled this way and that, only making the whole situation worse. Their laughter and curses filled the air and there was a little pang in his heart as he tried not to be affected by such familiar sounds.

He sighed, twirling the dog whistle between his fingers. It didn't go exactly as he had wanted it to, but if he knew them – and he did – at least they'd have _something_ to think about later. He may have lost the battle, but the war was far from over. He'd just have to try something else. Satisfied with that, he turned to leave them to figure out a way out of the mess he'd gotten them into, but stopped abruptly when his gaze locked with a far too familiar pair of hazel eyes.

"Henry," he said, mouth dropping open and eyes widening in shock. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit!_

Henry stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips.

Michael held his hands up in a gesture of submissiveness, hoping the child didn't do anything drastic that would draw Emma and Killian's attention in their direction. He saw Henry's eyes move towards the whistle in his hand and he immediately shoved it out of sight into his pocket.

"I can explain-"

"Save it, I know who you are," Henry told him straightforwardly. "I know _exactly_ who you are."

Michael lowered his head guiltily. He should have known that if anyone would have figured it out, it would have been him. He was so screwed.

"Henry-"

The boy cut him off. "You're Cupid, aren't you?"


	4. Part 4

A/N: Shout out to all my fellow Charmed fans! ;) I know I said I'd work on AHFMH, but…I. CANNOT. STOP. WRITING. THIS. I am ashamed – bad Liz! LOL Again, THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS AND THE FOLLOWS/FAVORITES/ETC. I can't express anymore how happy it makes me that you're all enjoying this as much as I am, so I will just say THANK YOU x double infinity :)

**Four**

If Michael had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. Instead, he simply goggled at Henry.

"Excuse me?" he asked, just to confirm that he'd heard correctly.

"You're Cupid," Henry repeated. "And you're trying to get my mom and Killian together."

The relief came so fast that Michael's body actually sagged and he pitched forward, resting his hands on his knees. Safe. Everything was still safe.

He chuckled lightly then glanced up at Henry. "Something…like that-"

"Are they True Love?"

Michael froze, his brows shooting up. "What?"

"I mean, they have to be right? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Ah…" _Shit._ How was he supposed to answer that? "Would…it bother you if they were?"

Henry contemplated him, lips pursing as he did so. He shook his head after a moment. "No…I like Killian," he grinned.

Michael's eyes crinkled around the edges as his own smile widened. "I'm glad."

"And he really likes my mom, I can tell…and she likes him too even though she keeps saying she doesn't."

He chuckled at that, unable to resist. "She's pretty stubborn."

"She gets it from David, my gramps," Henry told him. "But I bet you're pretty stubborn too, you have to be in your line of work."

Something flashed in his eyes when he'd called him stubborn, it was accompanied by the briefest of smirks, but it had come and gone so fast Michael wasn't even really sure he saw it. He laughed then, thoroughly amused. "I'm not Cupid, Henry."

"Close enough," he shrugged then smiled eagerly. "So can I help?"

Michael sighed and closed the distance between them, kneeling in front of him so that they were at eye-level. "I'm sorry Henry, but I have to do this on my own."

"Oh really?" he answered, hands moving to his waist. "And how's it going for you? Doing this on your own?"

Michael frowned at that, eyes narrowing at his tone. "Hey, cut me some slack, I've only been here for a week."

Henry rolled his eyes before fixing him with a bored look. "And all you have to show for it is an 'accidental-'" He made sure to make quotation marks with his fingers. "Run-in at the park which wasn't even really all that eventful unless you count the dogs – oh, but we're _not_…because we're not trying to set the dogs up."

Michael's face broke into a smile then, the scene very much a familiar one. It seemed that even here he couldn't escape being sassed.

"Face it," Henry said before he could even think of a response. "You need me."

"Look, it's not that simple-"

"Only because you're making it that way!" He stepped forward, putting his hands on Michael's shoulders. "I know my mom, I know her better than anyone from here…and I know all about True Love couples, I can help!"

He shouldn't let him. It was bad enough that _he_ was already interfering as much as he was. Michael stuck his tongue in his cheek while he weighed on the decision.

"You don't have a lot of time, you can't really afford to be arguing with me." The boy shook his shoulders lightly. "This is my family, you have to let me help!"

"How do you know I don't have a lot of time?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm an expert in stories…I know how it all works." He rolled his eyes again. "You've got what? Probably a month at best?"

He had far less, actually, but Michael wasn't about to tell him that. _Persistent, doe-eyed menace. _Some things never changed.

Michael sighed again, head hanging in defeat. "Alright, fine. But I'm in charge. I call all the shots, are we clear?"

"Just call me your wingman!" Henry agreed, holding his hand out so that they could shake on it.

He stood up as he took it, pulling Henry into his side and slinging an arm around him as they started to leave. "Brat."

"Cupid," Henry retorted.

"I already told you, I'm not Cupid."

Henry tilted his head up, studying his face. His mouth curved up in a smile. "You're right, I was wrong. Cupid is most likely better-looking."

Michael tightened his hold so that he had him in a playful headlock. "_Brat!_"

"Hey!" he laughed, his own arm wrapping around Michael's waist companionably. "So what do you think about 'Operation: Sparrow' for a codename?"

"Why 'Sparrow?'" he wondered, releasing Henry from his grasp but keeping his arm around him.

"Because. When sparrows find their soul mates, they stay with them for the rest of their life," Henry smiled.

There was a little pang in his heart at Henry's words and he unconsciously touched his hand to the boy's head – an affectionate gesture. "So do swans," he pointed out. "Why don't we call it 'Operation: Swan?'"

"Michael, _please_, that's _so_ obvious…you really do need me."

He laughed at the way Henry rolled his eyes again before shaking his head back and forth. Adding Henry to the mix would either be the smartest decision he'd make here or the dumbest. Either way, at least he wasn't alone in the war anymore.

"Wait a minute." Henry stopped in his tracks. "What about them? Are we just going to leave them here?"

They both turned at the same time, neither realizing they shared identical expressions as they watched Emma and Killian continue to fight off the dogs and try to free themselves from the clutches of the leashes.

Michael shrugged. "They're spending time together…and it gives them one more thing to bond over."

Their gazes locked, hazel to blue, and they grinned at each other, both instinctively holding a hand up at the same time for a high-five.

* * *

On Friday, Emma was sitting at David's desk with her feet propped up on his desk and her arms crossed in front of her. She hadn't seen him the last few days. They were oddly busy as of late and were forced on opposite shifts just to keep the town running smoothly. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't even _heard_ from him since that day, which was quite unusual especially for him. She was brooding about that when he came in. Her scowl deepened at the sight of him, making him pause in the doorway.

"What?" he asked cautiously after a few beats of silence.

"Where're my donuts?"

"I don't know?" His brows furrowed. "Where…did you put them last?"

"Don't get smart with me, Charming," she scoffed. "I took your stupid dogs for a walk like you asked, then spent over an _hour_ tangled up with Hook trying to get free. You promised me donuts and I want my donuts."

"Wait- what are you talking about?" He put his hands on his waist, eyes narrowing at her. "And you did _what_ with Hook?"

She winced inwardly at that. _Shit. _Her expression mimicked his, the only difference the pursing of her lips as she thought about what she said. "That didn't come out right," she told him, completely straight-faced.

"No," he concurred. "It didn't."

"No…" She shook her head, fully in agreement. "Can I say that again?" Her face scrunched at him.

"Is it going to sound any better?" David wondered.

"Probably not."

"Am I going to want to punch him?"

It flashed into her mind, bits and pieces – so very real even days after – of the incident that afternoon.

"_**Stop…moving.**__" He commanded through gritted teeth. His voice seemed…pained to her ears._

_When he dropped his forehead to her shoulder she froze, all thoughts slipping from her mind. Now it was she breathing in shallow gasps, though she couldn't be sure if it was due to his weight now on her or because her senses were suddenly in overdrive._

"_Bloody torment you are," he grumbled._

…

"_Emma Swan, are you blushing?"_

"_No," she snapped, keeping her eyes closed. _

_She felt his fingertips brush over her warm cheek and her eyes snapped open in surprise, her body shuddering at the same moment._

"_Aye," he murmured. "You are."_

…

_She gulped, impatiently shifting beneath his weight when he reached up to trace along her bottom lip with his thumb. _

"_Hook-" She protested._

"_Easy," he breathed. "I've got you." And then he was lowering his head. "Just a taste...just one."_

She snickered then, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook both in laughter and just the slightest bit of mortification. _**God**_**.** "Probably," she answered, eyes meeting his in amusement.

He pulled a chair in front of his desk so that he could sit across from her and put his feet up as well. "Alright, let's hear it then," he sighed.

"I got your text before lunch, asking me to walk some dogs for the Shelter because you had your hands tied with something…you promised donuts so I was the sucker who agreed against my better judgment." She pouted briefly. "Anyway, so I run into Hook at the park and then the dogs start going nuts. Long story short, we ended up tangled in the leashes from trying to calm down those monsters."

She thought it best to…leave out the details and judging by David's frown she was right.

"Was he getting…hand-y?"

Emma's body jerked in shock, her jaw hitting the ground in record time. She nearly fell out of her chair. "_David!_"

"_What?_" He shrugged, holding his hands out with his palms up. "You guys were together for _an hour_ and I want to know if I need to cut off his other hand."

She swore, hands cupping her cheeks as she stared at him. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

He swore, then shifted in his seat so that he could pull his badge from the waistband of his jeans. He set is on the desk near her hand.

She picked it up and chortled at the seriousness of his expression. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"Turning in my resignation, you'll have to ask for it anyway after I get through with him."

Emma scoffed a laugh and threw it back at him. "Shut up, resignation denied!" She sat up, setting her feet on the ground so that she could scoot forward and rest her arms on the desk as she spoke to him. "You wouldn't leave me."

She'd meant it lightly, but the stillness that crossed his face and the emotion that welled up in his eyes made the moment much more poignant.

"What makes you say that?" he murmured.

"Because," she shrugged, averting his eyes. "I need you."

David was quiet for a long time; so long that Emma peeked up to make sure she hadn't accidentally killed him with feelings. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

He nodded gently then cleared his throat and she knew he was fighting against bombarding her with too many emotions. It was…charming, and that made her smile.

"Way to deflate a temper, kid," he told her.

She grinned brightly as she sat back and shrugged again. There was a sweet little ache in her heart when she realized just exactly how much she had him wrapped around her finger.

"So about those donuts-"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, fine. I'll get you donuts, even if I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about or why you think I sent you that text-"

"Wait, what?" Her ears perked up at that. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't send you any text, I lost my phone-"

"You lost your phone? Then who-" She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to show him the text.

It said it right on the screen, 'David Nolan' followed by the message. He shook his head in confusion, taking it from her to read through what had been said. "No, this wasn't me…I haven't had my phone since-"

He stopped suddenly, and she saw the exact moment when realization dawned on him.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"Michael," he replied simply, his face hardening. "I ran into him a few days ago – literally – and it wasn't until a few hours later when I realized my phone was missing. I didn't even think about it then, I just thought I must have dropped it."

Emma's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense, why would he send me to the park with a bunch of dogs?"

"As a…diversion?"

"For what though? To get me out of the station?" She stood up abruptly, looking around to see if anything was out of place, if he actually _had_ taken something from there. Then her eyes landed on a pad of sticky notes and a memory flickered into her mind.

"_Is everything alright?" His face was concerned._

_Hers was confused. "Yes?" she said slowly. "Why wouldn't it be?"_

"_I've no clue…you're the one who told me it was urgent I meet you here."_

"_What?" her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"_

…

"_You sent me a note," he told her._

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. Then she was moving, grabbing her jacket and striding towards the door.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'll explain everything later, but right now I'm going to pay our little Outsider a visit," she called over her shoulder, not giving him a chance to protest or offer back-up. First she needed to go see Hook though, a point she conveniently left out as she left.

* * *

"Do you know what happens to thieving stowaways on my ship?" he asked.

She didn't even spare him a glance as she continued rifling through the papers on his desk. "They wind up in jail at the Sheriff's station," she said smartly. "But seeing as I'm Sheriff, that point is moot."

"Abuse of power." His brow quirked at her as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched her invade his personal quarters.

"The only other person who knows is you," she said, pulling drawers open. "And I highly doubt you'd do much about it."

She had yet to look up and that irritated him. "You may be Sheriff out there, lass, but this is _my_ ship and _I'm_ her Captain-"

"What are you- like, pulling _rank_?" She snorted, cutting him off as she righted herself, then her eyes fell on the nightstand next to his bed. "What are you going to do? Throw me in the brig?" She sidestepped around the desk and moved across the cabin. "I'd like to see you try."

He bloody well should do it, if not for trespassing and thievery then for simply driving him mad, because that was exactly what she had been doing ever since that initial meeting when they'd pulled the rubble off of him in the Enchanted Forest and their eyes had met for the first time. Every minute after that she'd done nothing but draw him in – until he felt like he was drowning, sinking into a world where his very reason for breath was _her_. Even when he'd been upset with her, hurt by her, when she abandoned him on the beanstalk…she had stayed with him.

"How the hell did you even find the ship?" he snapped.

The woman was inside of him already, not just in his head, but in the part of him he'd never thought he'd open again – his heart. Damned if he wasn't going to break down those insufferable walls of hers. He'd do it brick by fucking brick if he had to, and if that didn't work, he'd simply just scale the bloody things.

He was frustrated, it was evident by the tone in his thoughts, and it had every bit to do with her. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since that incident at the park. How could he? She haunted his dreams with her too-blue eyes and that siren's smile…and he was lucky if that was all he dreamt about.

"'Tis your luck I happen to have no sense of personal space, considering you are very much invading mine," he muttered when she didn't answer.

The more…_detailed_ dreams were the worst of it. They left him aching, endlessly aching for her. Thanks to those mutts at the park, he knew the feel of her – the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her lips – and how it was to have her both above and beneath him. It didn't take much for his brain to fill in the rest…and Killian Jones had always had quite the imagination.

"Where is it?" Emma asked finally raising her eyes to his.

_Ahh, there_, he thought when blue met blue and whatever connection was between them snapped into place. "Where's what?"

"The note you accused me of writing."

Absentmindedly she brushed her hair off her shoulder and an image of him doing that exact same thing before pressing his lips to the curve of her neck surfaced in his head. He heard her purr of pleasure in his mind and his jaw clenched. _Bloody. Torment._

"What do you need it for?" he said through gritted teeth.

"I just need to see it..." She frowned at him, hands moving to her hips as she caught the expression on his face. "What's your problem, are you okay?"

His eyes moved down to her hips, he imagined his hand there – gripping for purchase, leaving marks…his marks. _Gods._ She'd be the death of him.

"Wonderful," he lied, his voice strained.

They stared at each other for a minute, Emma eyeing him curiously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He didn't answer her question, just reached into the pocket of his coat and produced the scrap of paper he'd folded and kept with him. "Is this what you were looking for?"

Emma crossed the room, hand reaching out to take it from him. At the last second he moved it out of reach. She gave him a look that clearly said not to antagonize her, but he didn't care…he wanted to push her buttons, get under her skin as she had so easily gotten under his.

She made a move for it again and he held it further away. He tsked at her, wagging his finger. "What's so important about this paper?"

"Let me see it and I'll tell you."

"Tell me and I'll let you see it."

"Hook," she snapped, patience thinning, and he wondered if she was going to stomp her foot like a child.

"_Emma_," he taunted.

"I'm going to hurt you."

His brows wiggled at her, his tongue pressing into his cheek. "Do you promise?"

She rolled her eyes at that. "I didn't come here to flirt with you."

"No?" He smirked, taking a step towards her. "Pity." She backed away immediately, sensing the sudden shift in him that had become almost…predatory.

"What are you doing?"

He could hear the panic on the edges of her voice and he smiled again. "Making you nervous, obviously."

"Cut the crap, Hook." She stumbled into the desk, hands grasping the edge for balance. "And you don't make me nervous."

She was trapped. With nowhere to go, he closed in. "I already told you, I've no sense of personal space…but I'm quite certain that _you_ do."

Her breath hitched as he inched closer. "You're an ass," she murmured, but there was no heat behind it.

"And you're a torment."

Emma was sitting on the edge of the desk now, leaning as far back as she could from him. She had no more words, no more fight. He planted hand and hook on either side of her, his face just a breath away. Her eyes were wide on his and he could feel the tension coiling in her body.

"Not so tough now, are you lass?" He shocked her by leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, where he longed to kiss her. "Have you imagined what might have happened had that mutt of a dog not gotten in our way just before we almost kissed?"

He felt her shudder, felt her body sway towards his and he chuckled. He breathed deeply, inhaling the sweetness of her scent – something indescribable, something distinctly _Emma_. "I do," he whispered against her skin, finally giving in and pressing his mouth to her neck, then to the pulse point just below her ear before playfully nipping at the lobe.

She gasped and it took everything in him to pull away, to step back when all he wanted to do was kiss her and take from her and _give_ everything of himself to her.

He held the paper out to her, watched as she fought to catch her breath. Desire had darkened the blue of her eyes, made the pupils dilate almost to the rim of the iris. "One of these days, Emma, you'll have to stop running."

She was clutching at her heart, her chest heaving with the effort of her breathing while they watched each other. Then she was standing up, a scowl fixed firmly in place as she snatched the paper from his hand.

"Go to hell," she hissed.

And she ran.


	5. Part 5

A/N: Whoooaa, so sorry for the late update. My muse was being MIA :/ Anyway, I still can't say enough thank you's for all the reviews and favorites and all that. You guys are so kind with your words and all of you who have reached out to me personally, like... GAH I love you, plain and simple :) Hopefully this sets the record straight over our dear Michael. I didn't do a lot of writing last week, but I did a lot of plotting and outlining for the upcoming stuff in later Parts and I AM EXCIIIIIIITED. I basically had a feelsplosion all weekend, and I don't know how I survived. Good luck in advance ;) but for now, enjoy this next part!

**Five**

Emma didn't stop running until she had made it all the way to the inn. She braced her hands against the gate that fenced in the property, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she leaned over and fought to catch her breath.

_Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn…it!_

She was so _irritated_. Why was it that she had no control over herself or her body's involuntary reaction to him whenever he was near? Why couldn't she just be immune to him? Damn pirate. Fucking attractive, irresistible, sinfully blue-eyed, _pirate_.

He was getting to her again, getting inside her, under her skin…making her drop her guard, making her vulnerable…just like he did on that beanstalk. That was why she'd left him up there to begin with, why she'd been running ever since.

"_One of these days, Emma, you'll have to stop running."_

His stupidly charming voice resounded in her head and she glowered, wanting to give in to the desire to throw a tantrum and kick at the gate. She held back though, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking her composure anymore than he already had – even if he wasn't there to see.

He was a complication, one she couldn't afford, and regardless of what it was that was between them…she was not going to go down that road again. She knew exactly where that road led and there was no way in hell she'd set herself up for that kind of disappointment and heartache ever again, especially willingly.

She could feel her chest starting to ache in a different way and she felt suffocated by it. "Christ, Emma. Get it together," she muttered, willing the walls around her heart to strengthen. "Get it together."

After a few moments, when she'd effectively calmed herself down, she finally eased up off the gate. Her hands fell to her waist as she took one more steadying breath. She didn't feel any better, but at least she wasn't an emotional wreck anymore either.

Her eyes flickered up to the sign that read, 'Granny's Inn,' and it reminded her of why she'd come by that way. She pulled the crumpled paper from her jacket and examined the note.

_**Meet me at the park at 1:00. It's urgent. –Emma**_

That was most definitely not her handwriting – eerily close, but not hers. She looked up, scowling at the entrance and her temper sparked. "What the hell game are you playing at, kid?" she murmured.

"Sheriff Swan," said the voice from behind.

She whirled, her eyes narrowing...and again was hit with a sharp little zing of _something _– some kind of _feeling_ about him that she still couldn't place – down her spine as their eyes met. _What the hell, man?_ "You. I've a bone to pick with you."

"Are you stalking me? I'm pretty sure that's illegal," Michael smirked.

"You're one to talk." Her voice was clipped.

"I haven't the slightest clue what you mean."

She walked towards him, holding the paper up. "I know it was you who sent this note to Hoo- Killian."

He gave her a bored look, the ghost of a smile on his lips, but didn't try to refute her accusation.

"I also know it was you who stole David's phone and sent me to the park with those dogs from the Shelter."

"Hmm," he answered, lips pursing as he contemplated her before shaking his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Cut the crap, I _know_ you did all of those things…now I want to know _why_. What agenda are you running?"

He scoffed a laugh, looking at the ground briefly before moving past her. "You're really paranoid you know that? I already told you, I'm not here to hurt anyone." He held the door open and when she didn't move he gestured inside. "Do you really want to make a scene out here? Because by the look on your face, it's going to be a damn big one."

"Do you really think I'm dumb enough to lock myself in a room with you? Self-defense 101, kid: Don't trust a stranger who makes your Spidey senses tingle."

His brow quirked and he snorted, his hand releasing the door so that it shut close. Then he gestured at her, mimicking Spider-man shooting spider-webs from his wrists. "Tssss-tssss!" He cried, adding the sound effects.

Emma's eyes widened, utterly confused, and then she laughed abruptly, almost hysterically. "Holy shit, you're insane."

"Says the one who likened herself to Spider-man."

She shook her head. "I don't…even know with you, kid."

Michael chuckled, idly putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "Relax, Emma. I'm not crazy and I'm not a sociopath…I was just trying to make you laugh. You're so uptight."

That sent her back up and her eyes narrowed again. "You've been here for almost a week and the only thing you've done is meddle around in people's lives, _my_ life and Killian's life specifically, how am I supposed to believe you've come here for a different reason? What do you want with us?" She walked closer to him, watching him as he shrugged.

"I already told you, I'm just visiting…" he said, his face almost angelic.

It was far too coincidental that David's phone went missing the same day he and Michael ran into each other, that she received a text message the next day telling her to be at a specific place at a specific time, and that Hook showed up at the same place and time claiming she'd written him a note asking him to meet her. This was a set-up and she was staring at the mastermind who had plotted the entire thing.

Something crossed his face then, something she couldn't read, but it was enough to make an itch form between her shoulder blades and she pounced, capitalizing on his poker face slip.

"We are not playing this game anymore," she said menacingly, her voice lowering. "You tell me who you are _really_, and what you want-"

"Or _what_?" He leaned forward abruptly so that their faces were close and she could tell that his patience was thinning. "Why don't you stop worrying about me, Sheriff, and start worrying about _yourself_," he snapped. "There are far more important things that you could – and should – be concerning yourself with than whether or not some Storybrooke visitor is trying to play matchmaker with you and the Captain."

Emma goggled at him then. _Fucking hell._ "Is _that_ what you're doing?" She started to back away, suddenly wary, her body tense. "What the hell is going on?'

"Christ, would you relax?" Michael rolled his eyes skyward. "At the moment, I'm not doing anything except trying to get back to my room…but since you brought it up...he likes you, you know."

"_What?_" She couldn't speak, that was all she could manage.

"And if you'd get your head out of your ass, you'd admit that you like him too."

Her head was currently reeling at the thoughts flickering in and out of her mind of who this young man was and what his real agenda entailed. "You…are on some other level right now, kid."

Michael rolled his eyes again. "Anyone with two eyes and half a brain can see it."

"I- am _not_ having this conversation with you! I don't even _know_ you!" she barked, her temper flashing. "But you seem to know a lot about _us_ and if you don't start explaining yourself, so help me-"

"I'm not out to get you, Emma! I am not the enemy!"

"But you admit it, you're here to try to set us up!" she cried, panic intermixing with temper.

"Think about what you're saying…you already made it clear that you don't even know me. Why would some stranger meddle around in your life?"

Her eyes narrowed as she suddenly understood. He was manipulating the words, being extremely careful with his phrasing, not exactly lying, but omitting enough of the truth to suit him – sneaky bastard. She didn't know whether to commend him or take her fist to his face.

She knew without a doubt that she was right though, he was here for them, for her and Hook, and the thought was so absurd the electric fences she imagined as a secondary defense around the walls surrounding her heart sizzled in warning.

"I am not buying your innocent act for one second. I'm on to you, Michael, and I'm warning you, stay out of my business. Whatever it is you've come here for, you've wasted your time-"

"And why is it that you think I've come?"

"_I don't know!_ That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Emma stood staring at him, attempting to gauge him as dread sunk deep into the bottom of her belly.

"Look Sheriff," he sighed. "This game is getting old and tiresome-"

"_Game?_" she interjected. "This is not a _game_, kid. These are people's lives and I have no idea where you came from, or who sent you, but you can bet damn sure I'm going to find out…and when I do, you _will_ answer to me."

He seemed to sense that it was an argument he couldn't win because he didn't reply, just watched her seethe across from him.

"Are we done here?" he hissed after a moment.

"For now," Emma cautioned. Then she turned on her heel and started to walk away. "It's not too late to leave," she called back. A few seconds later she heard the door to Granny's slam shut and smirked at the crack in his composure.

She'd always been good at detecting lies, with the things she'd been through in life it was a skill that she'd nurtured and honed until it became second nature. It was that skill that kept insisting that Michael was keeping his cards close. At least she had one piece of the puzzle. Without a doubt he was there for…her and Hook, whatever that meant – and she tried to stem down on the panic at the thoughts – but there was more to him and his visit to Storybrooke than he was willing to let on, and damned if she didn't figure it all out.

Emma reached into her jacket for her phone, dialing a number before pressing it to her ear. When the call clicked over on the other line, she sighed. "Gold, it's me…I need to talk to you."

* * *

It was late into the night when the frantic knock sounded against Michael's door. He lay brooding on the bed, his arm covering his face.

"Nobody's home," he answered.

"Then why did you answer?" came the muffled voice through the wood.

He sat up on his elbows abruptly, his brow furrowing. "Henry?"

"Well, _duh_. Who else would it be?"

"You'd be surprised," Michael mumbled as he rose, crossing the room to open the door. He didn't even get a look at the boy because he came barreling through the entrance. "Hey!"

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"Why, of course Henry, you may come in," he answered sarcastically. "Make yourself right at home."

"Michael, stop messing around, this is _serious_." He dumped his backpack on the desk.

He glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly. Emma was going to kill him if they got caught. "Kid, it's almost midnight, don't you have…a bedtime, or a curfew, or something?"

Henry gave him an exasperated look.

"Right," Michael nodded. "Of course, you snuck out. Yep, the Sheriff's really going to kill me."

"She's sleeping, she won't know," he replied, unzipping his school bag. "Besides, this is important."

Michael sighed then walked over to him just as the boy was placing his storybook on the desk. He froze, eyes tracing the block letters. _Once Upon A Time_… He cleared his throat, trying to push back the lump of emotion that had lodged itself there.

"What's this?" He wondered, hoping his voice was nonchalant enough not to betray the emotions in him. He couldn't help but reach out to run his fingers lightly over the cover.

Henry stared up at him, his expression annoyed. "Are we _really_ going to do this right now?"

He frowned, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at his tone. "What are you talking about, Henry?"

"I know you know what this is-"

He shook his head, denying it. "I…know that it's a book, and from the words on the cover it looks like it's a book of fairytales-"

Henry sighed heavily and shook his head too. "_Michael._ Stop, okay? I lied to you. At the park, I said you were Cupid because I knew that I wasn't supposed to know who you really were, but I _do_-"

Michael's heart started to beat a little faster and he reached out to grasp Henry's shoulder. "Henry-"

"Cut it out!" he shrugged him off, his frustration spilling over and making his anger bubble up. "I know you're here to help Emma and Killian fall in love with each other, I know you're from the future, _and I know that you're my brother_!"

"I-" Michael was at a loss for words. He'd been made, his identity compromised…it really shouldn't have surprised him, it was Henry after all, but _still_. After the incident with Emma earlier, he didn't need one more thing to worry about.

"Look," Henry continued. "I know this isn't how it's supposed to be, I know that it's dangerous for people to know who you are because it could change the course of the future, but Michael, we have a major problem here!" He hit his hand against the book.

"I…need to sit down," he managed, sitting himself behind the desk. "How- how did you figure it out?"

Henry surprised him, leaning over to touch his chin. "You have Emma and Mary Margaret's chin." Then his fingertips moved to just under his eyes. "And your eyes look just like Killian's, as blue as the ocean…they even crinkle the same when you smile. I don't know how people don't see it because I saw it the first time I met you at the diner." Before he stepped back, he fluffed at the hair hanging over Michael's brow, smiling because they both knew Killian's did the same when it got too long. "You're their son…and my little brother from the future."

Michael sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "You're too perceptive for your own good."

"You're welcome," he replied, making Michael chuckle at his abruptly cranky tone. "Now get it together, we don't have time for this!" Henry opened the book, beginning to flip through the pages. "There's something wrong, the stories are changing. At first it was just words here and there, I didn't even notice it right away…but then sentences started to change."

"What? What do you mean?"

Henry stopped turning the pages when he got to Snow White's story. "The only reason why I knew something was wrong was because I practically have this book memorized word for word…then about a week ago, whole paragraphs started to change. It wasn't anything significant so I didn't worry about it, I- I thought it was just because things had been changing since Emma had broken the curse but then…"

He held the book up so that Michael could see. It was a picture of the infamous scene between Snow White and Prince Charming, where True Love's kiss breaks the Sleeping Curse.

Michael knew this book as well as Henry, knew this story like the back of his hand, knew every detail about the picture. To any other person, it would have just appeared as part of the artwork, but to the two guys who knew it best, they knew that there was something very wrong.

"Wait a second-" Michael frowned, grasping the book and pulling it into his lap.

"The pictures are changing now too," Henry confirmed, pointing to a corner of the page where the scene was fading and it seemed an eerie, dark purple cloud was seeping into the photo.

Michael cursed under his breath. "Sorry," he mumbled as an afterthought, remembering that Henry was still 11. This was bad. This was very, very bad. All of his worst fears had been realized, and time wasn't just running out, it was verging on non-existent.

"The Happy Endings are changing. They're in danger, aren't they?" Henry spoke, watching him carefully. "And it has to do with Emma and Killian. That's why you came back…to make sure they fix it before it's too late, to make sure they save everyone."

He eyed Henry for a minute, studying the familiar lines of his face that he knew wouldn't change much with age. He exhaled deeply, worry weighing heavily on his shoulders as he reached for a piece of stationary paper as well as a pen. "I can't…explain everything to you Henry, but I can tell you a little bit."

When he started to write, Henry inched closer to see what he was doing. On the paper, Michael had drawn a diamond. Next to the left point he'd written 'Past' and near the right point, 'Future.'

"The Present sits on the verge of creation," he started, circling the word 'Storybrooke' that he'd written right in the middle of the diamond. "Creation of the Future…you were half-right. I'm kind of from the Future…there's an in between point where people make their choices and those choices are what brings the Future into existence. This one," he said, tapping on the top point of the diamond. "Is where I exist…and this one on the bottom, is where I don't."

"So you're here, trying to make sure that this in between point – _your_ in between point – becomes the future," Henry reasoned. "That Emma and Killian choose each other, and in turn choose you."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Michael told him. "I'm not…doing this to be selfish about my existence…there's…something bad happening there," he said, circling the bottom point on the diamond. "It's bleeding out into my realm, destroying everything…it's…not supposed to do that. From the Present, the choices have to be made, the journey has to be taken, and the story must write itself. Everything has to be of freewill. There shouldn't be any interference of any kind, I- I shouldn't even be here, but…whatever is there, it's broken the rules-"

He dreaded having to say the words. "It's interfering in my realm, trying to ensure that it doesn't become the Future. But Henry, if the Past is changing, if the Happy Endings are changing, this goes far beyond just making sure that my world doesn't come into existence. It's taking the choices away. This shouldn't be happening. Nothing in the present or the past is supposed to be tampered with. It…defies the laws of nature. That's why I'm here, that's why I came back, to save both."

Michael sighed again, running a hand through his hair. If he could save both, if he could give his parents the choice, it might just be enough to save his future.

"The magic there, the magic that's destroying my realm…it's evil, it's the darkest the world will ever see and it's getting stronger."

"What- what happens if…"

Michael scoffed sadly, his brows pinching together. "If it wipes my world clean?"

Henry nodded, the fear clearly evident in his eyes.

"It comes here," he told him truthfully. He began turning the pages of the book, looking for more pictures and frowning when he saw that the same was happening to them. They were all fading away from an ominous dark purple mass. "It comes here to make sure that nothing threatens it."

"Whose is it?" The child asked suddenly. "Whose magic is it?"

Michael averted his eyes, shaking his head as he did so. "Henry-"

"It's Emma's, huh?"

His voice was worried, scared almost, and Michael's head snapped up at that. He reached out, laying his hands on Henry's shoulders. "Hey-"

"It's her! It's her magic!" Again, he shrugged off the comfort then tapped against the point he had circled. "What happened to her? What makes her go dark?"

"Henry, look-"

"_No, you look!_" He cried abruptly as the panic broke through his control. "We have to tell her! We can't just sit around, we have to do something!"

He grabbed him before he could sprint for the door. "Hang on, Henry!"

"Michael, this is our _mom_, we have to help her! If this is about her and Killian, we have to _help them_! She has to choose love, she has to choose _him_!"

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey," Michael knelt, gripping his shoulders and trying to get Henry to focus. He ran a hand soothingly over his hair. "Listen to me, listen to me…kid, you gotta take a breath, okay? Think about this for a minute, you _know_ Emma. You know that we can't just _tell_ her to do something…especially something like this? Choose Killian or the world perishes? She's going to flip, and she's going to shut down so fast, we'll never have a chance."

The words hung heavily in the air and the two stared at each other for a long time until finally Michael pulled his brother tightly into his arms.

"We'll figure this out," he said quietly. "I promise we're going to figure this out."


	6. Part 6

A/N: Back with another update :) I know I've completely put AHFMH on the backburner right now (BAD LIZ!) but I'm so engrossed in this story I can't stop writing it. AHFMH is still chugging along, it's just writing a lot slower because my focus has been on getting this to where I want it to be. Again, thank you for your continued support and kind words, I still can't believe how many notifications I get from new readers favoriting/following this story and/or leaving reviews. I still think you lovely beans are the actual best! XO

**Part 6**

Henry stood at the beginning of the docks, staring out into seemingly empty space. Instinctively he knew the ship was there, the problem was figuring out where. He walked about halfway down, wondering if the risk of falling out into the water was worth attempting to find the gangplank himself. He sighed after a moment, shifting the paper bag he held in one hand to the other. The fear of his mother berating him for breaking his neck outweighed whatever risks he was willing to take so instead, he turned on his heel and made to leave, making sure to take his steps loudly.

"Henry?"

_Bingo._ He paused, composing his face before turning to look in the direction of the voice. He grinned at the sight of Killian's head peeking out from the magical veil that made the ship invisible. "Your head looks like it's floating."

Killian glanced down and smiled. "I suppose it does." He stepped further out onto the gangplank, the air around his body shifting and parting until the rest of him could be seen. "A bit far off from Granny's, aren't you?"

"Well, oh-" He took a step towards Killian then froze, remembering his manners. "Requesting permission to come aboard, Captain."

The man chuckled softly in amusement then nodded his head. "Aye, permission granted."

That was all the encouragement Henry needed, he found the end of the walkway with a little more help from Killian then eagerly bounded upwards until he crossed the enchantment. Killian helped him onto the deck and he casually looked around. He'd only been aboard a few times in the past, but he felt oddly…at home on the magical vessel. When he glanced back up at Killian, he found the man studying him curiously.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

"'Ello mate," Killian replied, the corners of his mouth curving up. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's great," he shrugged, acting as if popping by to visit him was a normal occurrence.

Killian made a contemplative humming sound in his throat then sidestepped around Henry to sit on the edge of a nearby crate. "Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, lad?"

Henry held out the bag in his hand to him. "I brought you something."

"You-" Killian's body stiffened, a surprised look crossing his face. "That's for me?" He slowly reached out to take the bag when Henry nodded. "What is it?"

Henry climbed up onto the crate and sat cross-legged, making himself comfortable next to the pirate. "Open it."

Killian looked at him briefly, another smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, and Henry had to smile at how much it was like looking at Michael. Then Killian laughed quietly, reaching in and producing a large cookie.

"And what sort of bribery is this, eh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cap," Henry said.

He bit into the cookie and offered Henry one from the bag. "Mmhmm, everything comes at a price, what's yours?"

Henry munched on the sweet, turning it from one side to the other as he studied it. It wasn't as good as Mary Margaret's, but it came real close. "Can't a kid just make a nice gesture?"

Killian didn't reply, merely enjoyed his snack and quirked his brow at Henry.

"Alright, fine. Guilty," he confessed, adding a heavy sigh at the end. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"A question for a treat?" the Captain asked. "Hmm. Seems easy enough. Very well, ask your question."

"Can you teach me how to be a pirate?"

Amusement flickered over his face once more. "Does your grandfather know?"

"Are you nuts?" Henry laughed. "Of course not!"

Killian grinned, toasting Henry with his cookie before taking another bite. "The schemings of the small yet mighty."

"Does that surprise you?"

"Hardly," he chuckled. "You've an iron will to rival your mother's, lad…I happen to believe you can be quite resilient when you wish it."

There was an unexpected little flutter in his chest, a feeling of pride at Killian's words and he smiled again. "So…when do we start?"

"Mmm," Killian mused, his face scrunching as he thought. "Hard work being a pirate, mate."

"I went under a sleeping spell to help break a curse; do you really think I'm afraid of a little hard work?"

He laughed. "Touché, lad…and why, exactly, do you want to be a pirate, Henry? It would be a bit of a conflict with your family's tendency towards law enforcement, would it not?"

He made sure to roll his eyes at that. "_Boring!_ I want some adventure…and freedom…I want to see the world!"

"Hmm," Killian smiled affectionately, nodding as his eyes softened. "I remember that…but won't you miss your family? Your friends?"

"Did you?"

"I didn't have any," he shrugged as he finished off his cookie, though there was no sadness in his voice. "I suppose that's why it was always easy for me to be a wanderer, because I didn't have ties to anything. It was always just me, my compass, and the endlessness of the sea…not so horrible a fate for a nomad, as long as you don't mind the solitude."

"Didn't you have crew?"

"You can't fool me lad," Killian waggled his finger at him. "Now you're thinking I need a First Mate."

"Doesn't every Captain?" Henry grinned then paused for a beat. "Do you miss it?"

"Having a crew?"

"No…the adventures, I mean…don't you miss that?"

"I've had close to four lifetimes of adventures, Henry," he smiled softly. "More often than not, it's nice to just…be still for a moment."

_For a moment?_ Henry frowned, his brows pinching together. "Do…you plan on leaving then?" There was an edge of panic to his voice, not just because of what he knew, but because…_he_ didn't want Killian to leave. He liked him.

Killian was quiet for a long time, his expression far away as he thought. The sudden urge to grasp him by the lapels of his coat and shout that he couldn't just _leave_ was so strong, Henry actually shuddered from it.

"No," he spoke finally. "I quite like it here. I've no intention of leaving."

He looked at Henry then, and he surprised him by running a hand affectionately over his head. There was something that came into his eyes briefly, a hint at having found something else 'here,' something _more_, and Henry had to press his lips together to keep from smiling.

"And what of you, lad? You've just reunited your family, are you honestly ready to trade that for a pirate's life? What, have you grown tired of them already?" He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Though between you and me, I can't say that I blame you, that _charming_ grandfather of yours is actually more Grumpy than Charming."

Henry snorted and shook his head. "Gramps isn't so bad. I think if you both got to know each other, you'd actually like each other…you're really similar, now that I think about it."

"Careful, lad. I doubt he'd take kindly to the comparison."

"He's just weary of the 'villain' type," he said, emphasizing with his fingers as he made quotation marks in the air.

"And you're not?"

"We all have stories, I know that better than anyone. I mean, yes, you made a lot of bad choices after you got here…_bad_ choices-" Killian's laugh cut him off briefly. "But look at you now. People can change, most people do if they have someone to believe in them…or something to believe in. That's what happened with my mom, that's how she broke the curse." Henry shrugged and smiled. "David will come around…besides, he's just a little overbearing right now because he's still working out how to be a dad to a grown-up."

"Smart, aren't you?"

"Maybe just a little…or a lot," Henry grinned then another thought popped into his head and he had to contemplate whether or not he should share it. He exhaled deeply, deciding that there was too much at stake for him not to. "My mom will come around too."

Killian's head snapped towards him as he leaned back and craned his neck to stare down at him with a furrowed brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I know that you like her," Henry told him matter-of-factly.

"Why do you- but how-"

"Because I have eyes? And gee, I don't know, because I pay attention?" He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "And let's face it, you're not exactly subtle."

Killian studied him for a long time, a sulky pout on his lips. "Anyone ever tell you that you're too perceptive for your own good?"

"All the time," he smiled.

"You really are your mother's son." He scoffed amusedly and turned so that he was facing Henry a little more. "You know, I think she would be quite sad to have you gone for so long if you went and decided to become a pirate."

"I can always come back."

"You sail far enough and it could be months, maybe even years before you do." This time there was just a hint of sadness in his tone. "By then it would be too late, you would have missed out on a lot."

Henry mused over that for a long time. "Okay, we'll work up to it…can you teach me how to sail instead?"

"Somebody's awfully determined to learn his way around a ship."

"You never know, it could come in handy one day," Henry smiled.

Their gazes held for a few moments until finally Killian gave in, rolling his eyes as he sighed. "Alright, alright-"

"Yes!" Henry cried, jumping off the crate to face him. Agenda aside, he was genuinely interested in putting another skill under his belt – sword fighting, archery, horseback riding, and now this? He was well on his way to becoming the hero he'd so often dreamt of being. "This is going to be _so_ awesome-"

"But not until your mum agrees," the older man cut him off.

The initial excitement on Henry's face fell and he made sure to pout just a little more than normal. "_Aw, man!_ You mean we have to tell her?"

"I quite like my head where it is, thank you, and knowing your mum, she wouldn't hesitate to take it if I simply took you out to sea without her permission."

He scrunched his nose. "Can you talk to her then? Please, Killian? _Please?_" He widened his eyes, made them doe-like, while he clasped his hands together in front of him as he begged.

"Why am I left with the dirty work?" he asked, mimicking Henry's expression. "You're the one that wants to learn to sail!"

"If your reputation is anything to go by, I know convincing my mom about something as simple as this should be a piece of cake for you…" Henry made his eyes narrow at him. "Wait a minute, you're not…_scared_, are you? Big, bad Captain Hook afraid of a woman?"

"Oy!" he said defensively, a scowl on his face as he played right into Henry's plan. "You take that back! I'm no coward, lad!"

Henry's brow went up and then he simply bawked like a chicken, knowing exactly how it would make Killian react.

Killian stood up, face twisted in annoyance. "Alright, alright!" he grumbled, rubbing his hand over the scruff on his jaw. "I'll speak to your mum."

He knew Killian was trying to figure out how he'd just gotten played, but as soon as he agreed, Henry's face broke into a grin. "_Great!_ Thanks Killian! You're the best!"

Henry jumped forward, throwing his arms around the pirate's waist and hanging on tight for a hug. It was reactionary, he hadn't meant to but…it just sort of happened. He felt the man's body jolt in surprise and he winced inwardly, hoping he hadn't startled him too much. Then a moment later, Killian's arms went around him as well – hesitantly, but they were still there nonetheless. Henry's heart squeezed involuntarily, it was like hugging David but not quite…it was different somehow. Not bad, just…different.

There was so much goodness in him though – he could tell, he could feel it. It made him smile. He tipped his face up to look at him.

"Earlier you said you didn't have any family or friends…I can be your friend," he spoke quietly, genuinely.

Killian's face was soft as he stared back at Henry. "I thought you already were."

He didn't say anything, just stood there with his mouth curved up. "See you soon, Cap."

Killian saluted him as he ran off, his expression a flurry of emotions. "Goodbye, lad."

Henry stopped just before he jumped atop the gangplank, another thought crossing his mind. He turned to face the pirate one last time. "Hey Killian?"

"Aye?" He exhaled deeply as if to calm himself.

Henry warred with himself for a second before deciding to put his agenda aside once more and speak from his heart. "Do me a favor…don't give up on my mom, okay?"

"I-" His mouth dropped open slightly in shock.

It was the only visible sign that Henry had rendered him speechless. Then Killian nodded once and that was answer enough for him.

"Bye," he waved, a satisfied smile on his lips before he disappeared from sight.

As soon as he reached the bottom he went into a dead sprint, ducking behind one of the buildings and grinning at Michael when he caught sight of him.

"Well?" his brother asked.

"Too easy! Operation: Sparrow is in full effect!"

Michael matched his grin and gave him a high-five. "Brilliant."

"What's next?" Henry asked.

A mischievous glint came into his brother's eyes. "I have a plan, but we're going to need handcuffs."

* * *

Emma was knee deep in the paperwork on David's desk by the time 8 o'clock in the morning rolled around. She'd been working for two solid hours already yet she still felt like she hadn't accomplished anything. She sighed, staring at the file in front of her – it was the same one she'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes. Yep…it was definitely time for a break.

She leaned back to stretch her cramped muscles, closing her tired eyes as she did so. She was so exhausted…_so_ exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping at all the last few nights, not since that…encounter on Hook's ship. She couldn't control the shiver that raced down her spine as her mind automatically conjured up the memory of the feel of his lips against her neck.

She groaned and covered her face. _Fucking...pirate!_ Every time she tried to go to bed she'd dream about it, about him…and then some. She couldn't even remember how many times she'd woken up sweaty and needy, with the sheets tangled around her as she lay restless and unsatisfied and…_frustrated_.

If only that was all she'd dreamt about…the physical intimacy, while a pain in the ass, was far easier for her to handle, but sometimes she'd dream about quiet, simple, heart-squeezing moments – emotionally intimate moments…cuddling on the couch, holding hands as they walked along the shore, his thumb stroking the little dent in her chin as he smiled at her before tucking her hair back behind her ear. It made her ache, made her want things she shouldn't be wanting.

"Fuck me," she grumbled.

"Your quarters or mine?"

Her overly sensitized, sleep deprived state went into overdrive at the mere sound of his voice and she jerked abruptly, the motion almost sending her out of her seat. Her eyes flew to the doorway and she felt the heat rise into her cheeks when their gazes met. He was leaning against the doorframe, his legs casually crossed at the ankles with that infamous smirk on his lips. She frowned.

"You," she muttered in annoyance.

"Good morning to you as well."

"What are you doing here?" She started shuffling papers, needing to keep her hands busy.

He didn't say anything for a long time and she wondered if she was lacking so much sleep that she'd actually begun to hallucinate him. Then he cleared his throat and the sound was far too real to be anything but. She glanced up at him through her lashes, grateful that he hadn't moved any further into the room because she wasn't sure she could handle him being any closer.

"I've a rather interesting request to make," he said.

Then her stomach clenched involuntarily as her brain decided to remind her of one particular dream where he'd hotly whispered _several_ interesting requests in her ear before flicking his tongue over the pulse point just below it. _God._

"Oh?" she answered, cursing inwardly at the hoarseness of her voice.

"Your lad's taken a sudden interest in my ship and learning to sail her."

In her dreams, they'd done it on the ship. Twice. Both times under the stars. The first time was like the gentle lull of the ocean on a peaceful night – slow, sweet. The second time was like drowning in a whirlpool – a very _hot_, very _rough_ whirlpool.

"He what?" she asked, swallowing thickly and not really comprehending what he was saying to her.

"He has it in his head that he'd like to be a pirate someday, I managed to convince him otherwise but now he'd like for me to teach him how to sail instead."

Her mind vividly recalled the sharp scrape of his teeth against her collarbone and the grip of his hand at her hip as he moved against her. She wanted to pull her hair out, instead she stood up agitatedly, grabbing a stack of folders and walking back into her office to give herself a chance to compose herself.

She exhaled a shaky breath and crossed her arms defensively over her chest when she came out to face him. She didn't say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her.

His brow quirked at her. "Are you alright?"

"Fantastic!" she laughed lightly, nervously. This time it was she who cleared her throat. "Why?"

"You seem…tense. Distracted…"

_You have no idea._ "I'm perfectly fine," she lied, forcing her mouth to curve up.

"Right…" His eyes narrowed at her as he contemplated her for a bit. "Well?" he spoke after another few moments of silence.

"Well what?" She couldn't focus; all she kept seeing was him…naked, them…tangled together, and it was wreaking havoc on her senses. Christ, she really needed him to leave.

"Is it alright if I teach Henry how to sail my ship?"

"Oh," she said, and then surprise crossed her face. "Oh!" Followed by confusion. "Henry wants to learn to sail?"

Hook tilted his head to the side and his brow went up again but he didn't push further on the topic of whether or not she was feeling distracted. She fidgeted nervously under his stare and had to plant her feet to keep from rushing off.

"Um," she closed her eyes briefly and shook her head as if to clear it long enough so that she could recall some of what he'd said earlier. _Henry. Pirate- scratch that. Sailing instead. Got it._ "Yes…that's fine…as long as he doesn't fall overboard and get eaten by sharks."

He chuckled lightly. "He'll be fine. I'll take care of him, I promise."

She nodded and her smile was tight. "Thanks."

Their eyes held again, intensely, and her heart rate automatically picked up. Betrayed by her body again, she cursed in her mind once more, and when he pushed off the doorway to take a step towards her, she backed away instinctively. It was too familiar a scene – from his room, from her dreams – and it was too much. Did she have to be so damn responsive?

Hook watched her curiously, stopping in front of David's desk and setting a coffee cup she hadn't realized he'd been holding atop it. "Are you always this skittish in the morning or is it just me?" His eyes danced knowingly, mischievously.

"Please, don't flatter yourself," she spat, fixing a scowl on her face then nodding warily at the drink. "What's that?"

He smirked and shrugged but he didn't remove his hand from where it was resting on the lid. "An apology."

Emma's brow quirked at him.

"Coffee," he said, rolling his eyes.

"For what?"

"I owe you an apology."

"I don't understand."

"My behavior a few days ago," he replied, looking down almost guiltily. "It wasn't…very gentlemanly. I'm sorry."

Emma shook her head, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Hook-"

"Please," he cut her off. "Allow me to apologize. I was having a rough week and you were on the receiving end of it-"

"Look, let's just…forget about it okay?" she interjected, her voice tight as another jolt shot down her spine at his words. _Rough. Receiving end._ She could feel the softness of his lips on her body, _everywhere_ on her body, and there was a soft purr of pleasure in her mind.

She knew the feel of his weight on her, the brush of his fingertips over sensitive skin, the smell of sea and leather that seemed to always be with him. She trembled and a quiet whimper escaped her lips as she lowered her head in defeat. "Fucking hell," she muttered under her breath.

She wasn't looking at him, but she had a feeling he was staring at her with some kind of smug smile on his incredibly attractive face and just..._Argh!_

"Are we done here?" Emma spat exasperatedly. "I'm tired and I…really have a lot of things I need to get done."

He made a little humming sound in his throat and her body shuddered once more because it was a sound she'd heard before, a sound she knew quite intimately in her mind – which she was losing more and more the longer he just _stood_ there, testing her will in all his tempting glory.

"Aye…we are," he answered. "Are you quite certain you're well? You look a little…flushed, darling."

She forced herself to look up. "I'm…fine," she told him through gritted teeth.

"Very well, then." He shrugged lightly then began to back away from the desk, keeping his eyes on hers as he smiled. "Oh, by the way…if you'd ever like to come, you're more than welcome to."

Then he was gone, out the door with the only coherent thought in Emma's head the innuendo she'd made from his words.

_If you'd ever like to __**come**__, you're more than welcome to. _

"Oh my God, Emma," she groaned, covering her face with her hands, knowing very well that all he really meant was to invite her to join him and Henry on the ship. "What are you? A 15 year-old boy?" Frustrated sobbing noises escaped her mouth as she fought back on the urge to slam her head into the closest wall.

"He's just one man, one stupidly attractive man," she began to pep talk herself. "You can do this, okay? Get your shit together."

After she'd calmed down some, she smoothed her hands back from face and into her hair then opened her eyes. The fluorescent lights stung a bit and the station was suddenly too quiet, too empty and far too _warm_. She exhaled a breath, her gaze lingering in the vacant doorway for a few indulgent moments then she promptly sat back down in her father's chair.

Emma froze as her eyes landed on the cup he'd left for her. There was a small, pretty, purple wildflower resting atop the lid and her heart jumped into her throat. She let the emotion wash over her – she couldn't stop it – and let the ache bloom in her chest as she reached for it and delicately picked it up. She didn't even remember the last time someone had given her flowers.

She tried not to be charmed – 'tried' being the operative word – and was unable to prevent the smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth. "Damn it, Killian," she murmured, though there was no heat in her voice.

A few minutes later, Emma walked back into her office to open the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out a worn copy of her favorite book since she'd been old enough to read, J.M. Barrie's _Peter Pan_, from under a familiar black scarf and sentimentally studied the cover, never thinking in her wildest dreams that its infamous villain would be bringing her coffee, leaving her flowers, and endlessly stirring up emotions she never thought she'd feel again.

Emma randomly let the book fall open in her palm then tucked the little flower between two pages, thinking that it was a rather fitting place to keep it, all things considering. She set it back in the drawer, under the scarf and shut it close. One full heartbeat passed before she re-opened it and retrieved the scarf, remembering how it had been used to carefully bandage her hand when she'd cut herself climbing a beanstalk.

She sighed and frowned, hardening her heart against the sudden vulnerability that always engulfed her whenever those memories surfaced. This wasn't a fairytale, she reminded herself. She wasn't a naïve child on the cusp of womanhood anymore, expecting some dashing, Prince Charming-like man to waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. That was her parents' story. This wasn't. This was real life, _her_ life, and she was not going to fall prey to romanticizing it. She'd done that already, and damned if she'd do it again.

She wasn't going to get involved with Hook, she wasn't going to allow him to affect her anymore, and she sure as hell was not going to fall for him. She folded the scrap of material neatly and gently placed it back over her book before securing the drawer, and all her childish dreams, back into place.


	7. Part 7

A/N: FINALLY. AN UPDATE. I AM SO SORRY. Life got crazy, then I rewrote this because of reasons and adjustments and then OUAT season finale… basically it was a rough time. BUT HERE, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND LOVE AND YES ENJOY XO :)

**Part 7**

Emma's arm was curled around her head on the island counter in her mother's kitchen.

"Did it work?" she asked, her buried face in the curve of her elbow muffling her voice. She heard Snow sigh and that was answer enough, it made her grumble in aggravation as she picked her head up slightly before hitting her forehead back against her arm.

"Now what?" she said, lifting her eyes to Snow, silently pleading for her to think of something, _anything_, that would get her out of this predicament.

"I'm sorry, Emma," she sighed. "I'm all out of ideas. I think your best shot is just to wait for the locksmith tomorrow-"

"_Tomorrow?_" She and David cried simultaneously.

She could feel the panic building at the bottom of her belly and she wanted to scream.

"You know he takes Sundays off," Snow said gently. "He holes himself up in his home…he won't answer the door for anything."

"Well, he'll have to answer if I break it down."

"David…" Snow warned, her brow arching at him.

"We are _not_ waiting until tomorrow," her father said firmly, taking the words right out of Emma's mouth.

Snow frowned. "David, we've literally tried _everything_, we've been picking at this lock _all night_…nothing is working. At this point it would be counterproductive and a serious waste of energy to do anything _but_ wait for the locksmith-"

"Give me the pick again," Emma demanded suddenly, hand outstretched for the tool. Damned if she was going to wait for the locksmith. She refused to be stuck like this any longer than necessary, one overnight had been enough.

"Emma," Snow tried to soothe.

"Give me the damn pick!" she snapped.

Her mother jumped at the tone in her voice then hurriedly gave her the tool, backing away from the counter as Emma attempted to work at the lock once more. She couldn't understand why she couldn't get it to open. She spent a good portion of her youth as a thief – stealing, being conniving, _picking locks_…based on her repertoire, this should have been a walk in the park for her, and yet here she was, face scrunched in annoyance as she went another round with the fucking lock.

After another few minutes of struggling she finally gave up and threw the pick across the room on an angry huff. She groaned and wrapped her arm back around her head.

"Well you sure showed that lock who's in charge, didn't you, darling?"

"Shut up," she muttered at the voice beside her.

Several moments of silence passed before she sat up all the way and turned towards him. The second their eyes met, her stomach clenched from the little jolt that shot down her spine.

She glared at him. "If you don't have anything helpful to contribute, just…_shhh!_"

Hook shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't see what the problem is really-"

"Of course you don't," David interjected grumpily, though nobody paid him any attention.

"Your mother makes a valid point," Hook continued. "Besides, what's one more day in the grand scheme of things?"

Then she caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips and the way his piercing blue eyes danced with laughter. She rolled her eyes. _Attractive, smug bastard. _"This is your fault."

He chuckled in amusement, shifting to angle his body to face hers. "And how, exactly, do you figure that?"

She sat scowling at him, wanting to smack that stupid little grin off his handsome face. "Because it…just is!" she answered lamely, turning back away from him.

He lifted his hand and in turn, hers, making the metal links between their handcuffed wrists clink together noisily. "'Sure Henry, of course you can try your magic trick on us,'" he mocked, making his voice a few octaves higher. "Besides, you're a thief…shouldn't lock picking be something you're exceptionally good at?"

"'Sure lad," she mimicked in his accent, her own voice lowering. "Allow me to hold the keys on my hook for you…then drop them in the sewer drain so they can _wash out into the ocean_.'" Emma rolled her eyes again, snatching her hand away and fuming when his came with it. She purposefully ignored his little dig about her inability to get the restraints off of them. "And I don't sound like that!"

"You're right," Hook agreed, his voice teasing. "A screeching banshee is far more pleasant."

"Go to hell," Emma snapped.

"Are you sure?" He raised their hands once more. "You'll be coming with me."

"Don't talk to me anymore."

"But I like talking to you."

"Well…I don't like talking to you," Emma moved in her seat to face him again, her actions contradicting her speech.

"Why? Because I can still read you like an open book?"

The blood rushed to her face as she remembered that neither of her parents knew what had transpired when they'd climbed the beanstalk in search of the compass together. "Because you're annoying," she spat.

"You're a tor- nuisance," he retorted, checking himself at the last second as he side-eyed her father. "So I suppose that makes us quite the pair."

"Are you _sure_ we can't go to the locksmith?"

Emma heard David reiterate the question to Snow, the tone in his voice clearly displeased as he watched the two of them argue. In her peripheral vision she saw her mother walk towards him and link their hands together. It was an easy, natural gesture, but it was also meant to soothe his sulky mood away and it made Emma's heart squeeze just a bit because they right there, _they_ were a pair.

"We are not, nor will we ever be, a 'pair,'" she muttered sourly through gritted teeth, the words leaving an odd little ache in her chest.

Hook's shoulders went up casually but she caught the brief flash of emotions in his eyes and it confused her. It had been fleeting, but there had been the spark of his temper there, as well as…hurt? Bitterness? She marveled at how expressive one look could be, simultaneously wondering why he would even be feeling those things. It never occurred to her to think about how she could be reading him so well in the first place.

"I'm sure after another day chained together I could-" He paused as he made a point of raking his heated gaze over her. "_Thoroughly _change your mind on the matter."

Emma's stomach jumped, her breath getting stuck in her lungs. She was too preoccupied by her stupid body's uncontrollable reaction to him that she couldn't even bother to be annoyed that he was being blatantly lascivious in front of her parents.

"Okay, that's _it_," David barked.

His abrupt movement away from Snow drew Emma's attention away and her brow furrowed as she watched him cross the room. The second he reached for his sword, Emma and Snow sprang into action with cries of protests on their lips.

Emma shot up from her chair, tugging Hook to his feet and shoving him back a few steps away from her father. Snow planted herself in David's path, hands up to ward him off.

"Oh, no you don't," Snow snapped, her patience thinning.

He scowled at her then shifted his glaring eyes towards Hook. "I'm not going to kill him." He circled his wrist though, making the sword swing threateningly. "I'm just going to cut them apart."

"How? By cutting off his hand?" Emma rolled her eyes.

"It's tempting," David muttered, briefly entertaining the thought.

"Hey!" Hook complained.

"Stop flirting with my kid."

"_David_," Emma hissed.

"She's not a child, your highness. She's actually quite a very beautiful, very intelligent, very strong, very _grown up woman_, and if she had a problem with my advances, I'm sure she could easily remedy the problem herself."

Emma gaped, stunned into silence at his words, her eyes widening as she stared at him.

He turned his gaze on her then, shrugging again. "What?"

_Beautiful, intelligent, strong._ Those three words kept repeating in her head, clouding her thoughts, and she barely had time to react before David moved threateningly towards Hook once more.

"So you admit it, you've intentions towards my daughter!" David cried, pointing his sword at the pirate.

Her eyes widened even more at that and had her burying her face in her hands, suddenly mortified. "Oh my God."

She'd always wondered what it would be like to have a father like this, one who loved her more than anything, who aggressively protected her honor, who interrogated any man who so much as breathed in her direction…and while Emma found that the thought squeezed sweetly at her heart, it was also something she wished she had experienced much _earlier_ in life so as not to have to experience it _now_…in repeated fashion.

"_David_."

There was an impatient tone to her mother's voice.

"_Mary Margaret_."

It matched her father's perfectly.

Then there was silence, an extended silence that lasted so long Emma finally peeked through her fingers to see what was happening. Her hands fell away as she noted that her parents seemed to be having an entire conversation with just their eyes and it was oddly…fascinating. She'd grown up without this – without seeing them disagree, without watching this level of intimacy, without _experiencing_ real parents.

"They're frighteningly good at that," Hook commented, seeming to read her thoughts.

Emma nodded in agreement, too distracted to be bothered by the simple fact that her and Hook's own understandings of each other were reaching levels to rival her parents.

Snow placed her hands on her hips and Emma saw the very moment David conceded defeat. She wondered if her mother always won the arguments.

David gestured at the links of the cuffs with his sword. "My blade is strong. It should cut through that easily."

Emma was about to object, having already assumed he was going to make another smartass remark about needing to off the pirate, and then stopped as the thought sank in. "That's actually not a bad idea," she nodded in agreement after a moment.

"And how do I know he won't just run me through?" Hook muttered, glowering as he cut in.

"Good point." Emma's face scrunched as she turned her head to contemplate him. "I'm safe, I'm his kid."

"How lucky for you," he replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

"You _are not_ swinging a sword at our daughter, Charming," Snow chided.

"You heard her," he answered. "She's safe, she's my kid."

"And Hook?" Snow replied with an arch of her eyebrow.

"I don't know, I always considered my aim pretty good," he joked, shrugging again.

She was not amused. "I will not tolerate you harming someone in our home."

Emma had to cough to cover the smile that threatened to form. Another battle was quickly being lost and she had the distinct thought that the storybooks never talked about how much Snow White had Prince Charming wrapped around her finger.

"Friendly reminder, your highness…'tis your daughter who'll be nursing me back to health." He lifted his and Emma's joined hands. "Or have you forgotten this little detail? I do so enjoy a sponge bath," he quipped at the end.

"_Excuse me?_" David bit out through gritted teeth.

"Ohh-_kay_! That's enough of that." Emma rolled her eyes then grabbed Hook by the shirt, pulling him in the direction of the door. "_Not. Helping._"

"Oh," he smirked. "Taking me to make good on my word? But I'm not even injured yet, love." He cast a final glance at her parents, wiggling his eyebrows at David because he knew it would annoy him. "Perhaps she's just eager to get me on my back…_naked_. Quite a rambunctious lass, isn't she?"

"Shut up, you idiot," she hissed, opening the door and forcing him out into the hallway as he chuckled. She looked over her shoulder at her father. "We're going to the locksmith, and by 'we,' I mean me and him-"

David glared at her. "Emma-"

"You're officially on a timeout."

"But Emma," her mother objected. "The locksmith-"

She cut her off with a pointed look, brows arching up and eyes flickering to David as if to say, _Handle that_. Then she slammed the door shut. She bumped into Hook as she turned, eyes moving to his face and frowning at the grin she saw on his lips.

"You're on a timeout too," she muttered, fingers gripping his shirt once more as she dragged him behind her.

"I'm not sure what exactly that means," he replied. "Though I'm fairly certain we could make it…_enjoyable_, seeing as how it appears we're shackled together indefinitely."

Emma didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking again and though she shook her head, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from tugging up into a smile. "Keep moving, pal."

* * *

Henry snuck quietly back upstairs from his perch at the top of the stairs, snatching his walkie-talkie off the dresser as he slipped into the closet. He'd been listening in for a majority of the morning, unbeknownst to the rest of them, and with Emma and Killian now rushing off to the locksmith, it seemed his and his brother's plans were quickly crumbling.

He pushed the button on the side then spoke softly after the beep. "Michael? Are you there? We have a problem."

It beeped in response and his brother's sleepy voice came in through the walkie. "Henry?" he yawned. What's wrong?"

_Beep. _"Mom and Dad are going to the locksmith; they're going to ruin everything!" He had to remind himself to keep his voice down despite the panic creeping up his spine.

_Beep._ "What? What are you talking about? What time is it?"

_Beep._ "_Wake. Up._ Did you not hear me the first time? Mom and Dad are going to the locksmith to get the cuffs removed."

_Beep._ "_That's_ what this is about?" he groaned in annoyance. "I'm going back to bed."

Henry rolled his eyes then gripped the walkie close to his mouth.

_Beep._ "_Michael_," he hissed. "If you don't get up and meet me in town in ten minutes-"

_Beep._ "Relax little big bro. The cuffs are enchanted."

That made him pause for a moment.

_Beep._ "What? What do you mean?"

_Beep. _"Henry. Chill. The locksmith won't be able to open the lock. Now can I _please_ go back to bed?"

His brow furrowed as he stared skeptically into the darkness of the closet.

_Beep._ "Are you sure?"

_Beep._ "Yes, Henry. I'm positive."

_Beep._ "Where did you get magical handcuffs?"

_Beep._ "Go back to bed, or eat some breakfast."

He rolled his eyes again.

_Beep._ "Are you this annoying in the future?"

_Beep._ "Brat."

Henry smirked, pressing the button once more.

_Beep._ "Michael, if the Happy Endings get ruined because you couldn't get your butt out of bed-"

_Beep._ "For the record, _you're_ the annoying one, _Henry_…in this time _and_ the future. See you in ten minutes."

Henry grinned just as another beep sounded over the walkie.

"By the way, you're bringing me hot chocolate. Extra cinnamon, the way Grams makes it."

"Is there any other way?" Henry laughed.

* * *

Hook had been incessantly drumming his fingers on the desk for the last twenty minutes before Emma hit her boiling point.

"Is that really necessary?" she snapped.

"How much longer are we going to be in here?" he whined, allowing his head to fall back against his chair so that he could stare grumpily at the ceiling.

"As long as it takes to finish my work."

"This isn't work, this is torture, Swan," he groaned. "Can we _please_ go outside now? Preferably to the docks, I want to go back to my ship."

"Some of us don't have the luxury of having a lazy trade, some of us have to do paperwork and answer phones and go on patrol, so stop being a baby-"

"'Lazy trade!' Swan, you wound me!" He touched his hook against his heart, seemingly offended. "For your information, there is nothing lazy or easy about being a pirate, lass."

"Oh?" she wondered, shifting to face him before quirking her brow at him. "And when exactly was the last time you did something pirate-y? Pillaged? Plundered? _Sailed_ out in open waters?"

His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. "Well, actually- then there was that time- but what about-"

When he couldn't come up with an answer, she gave him a smug smile. "Mmhmm. Exactly."

He scowled. "What are you saying? That I should pillage and plunder and do…what did you call it? 'Pirate-y' things? You'd try to throw me into your jail cell in a heartbeat."

"Mmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "There is that."

"And what do you suggest? A trade change?"

"I'm suggesting that you should take some notes on responsibility and being a grown-up…" She grabbed a few files and shook them at him. "Or at the very least help me with these since my mother was right about the locksmith and we're going to be stuck like this until tomorrow."

He laughed then but the way he did so made her eyes snap up to him. It was a boisterous, full-bodied laugh, as if he was thoroughly amused with something she had said.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, not a thing," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps I'll tell you a tale some rainy day."

"About?"

Hook shrugged, eyes alight with amusement and a smirk ghosting his lips. "Growing up."

Emma sighed, as that was all he said on the matter, then turned back to her paperwork and away from his attractive face. Maybe she should just be resigned to the fact that he hit the genetic lottery and there simply was no way around how ridiculously good-looking he was.

The quiet took over once more and she was just finding her groove again when she suddenly felt him move beside her. She glanced at him reflexively, just as his boots landed on her desk when he propped his legs up. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Seriously?"

He stared her down challengingly. "I want to go outside."

"Yeah, well, I want a baby dragon for a pet but that's not happening either."

"I can get you one."

He said it so seriously, so straight-faced, Emma couldn't help but laugh. "You're like a child, you know that?" Emma tilted her head at him.

"No," he argued. "You're just too much of an adult."

They sat staring at each other for a couple of moments before he abruptly rose from his seat, snatching away the file she was working on and making her stand with him.

"Hey!" Emma protested, reaching for the papers with her free hand. "What are you doing? Give those back!"

"No," he told her, holding them up out of reach with their cuffed hands. "We're going outside. We've been holed up here long enough. It's damn suffocating."

"This isn't a game, I have things to do!" Her hand, the one chained to his, was wrapped around his wrist trying to tug his arm down while her other hand continued to try for the file. "_Hook!_"

"_Emma!_" he mocked, chuckling as he leaned back away from her.

Their bodies bumped then and Emma froze when he tipped his face to hers and their eyes locked. Again, the chemistry between them sparked a sharp little jolt of electricity along her skin and straight into her stomach. She pulled away but he followed, not because of the handcuffs, but because it was as if his body was magnetized to hers.

"Maybe these restraints aren't so bad after all," he murmured.

"Don't." She shook her head. "Don't start that."

He sighed loudly, his eyes hardening just a little bit. "Why do you keep doing that?" he wondered, a sharp edge to his voice as he tossed the file away. "You keep pulling away, acting like you're not affected in the slightest by what is so obviously between us, but guess what, Emma? _I'm the one looking at you_ and you have never been more of an open book."

Her temper flared as her fight/flight response kicked in. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Why not?" he scoffed, taking a step towards her. "It seems the most suitable time because you can't _run away_."

Her vision hazed red around the edges. "What is it that's between us, huh? Some chemistry?" She shoved at his chest lightly. "_Big fucking deal, Hook._ I'm not looking to be your next bed-mate, okay? I'm not going to scratch some…_itch_ you have and end up just another notch on your bedpost!"

"_What?_ How could you even think- Do you know what your problem is?" He barked, pointing his hook at her. "_You don't let people in_-"

She scoffed at that, cutting him off. "And you do?"

"I'm _trying_, Emma, but you won't bloody meet me halfway!"

Her chest tightened at that. _So tight._ She couldn't breathe. Tears stung behind her eyes – frustrated, angry, frightened tears. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation. She tried to back away but he came with her, this time because of the handcuffs.

"Do you remember that day in the hospital?"

His voice had gone soft, pleading, and she couldn't stand it.

"I heard you tell the nurse to hide me from Gold. It's vague and cloudy in my head, but I distinctly remember _your_ voice – the fear in it."

"Hook," she shook her head against his words. "That didn't mean-"

"Emma, that morning I woke you were at my bedside. I woke up and for the first time in…God knows how long…I wasn't alone." He took another step towards her. "You were there…being…you – stubborn, annoying, bossy – that's a term I picked up from your lad, by the way…but you- Emma, you understood me and before you left, you warned me about where I would end up if I chose to continue on the path that I was on."

"Hook, please…I can't- I don't-"

"You didn't come see me anymore after that, but…you stayed with me. And it made me realize that I wanted…more."

_I wanted you. _He didn't say it, but the words were there between them and she wanted to run. Then he reached for her free hand, gripping it tightly in his as her cuffed hand wrapped around his wrist once more.

"Something happened on that beanstalk, something neither of us was expecting, and it's been continuing to build ever since, and if you deny that…I name you liar."

She looked down to where their hands were joined and choked on her tears as one traitorously slipped down her cheek. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You don't know-"

"Then tell me, Emma. Help me understand."

He brought their hands close to her face so that he could wipe the tear away with the back of his finger. It shattered her, that one gesture breaking open the floodgates as a soft sob escaped her mouth. No man had ever done that, wiped away her tears…not once in her entire life.

Suddenly she was in his arms. He was holding her. She could feel the press of his cheek against her hair and it just made everything that much _worse_. She couldn't stop the tears, she couldn't stop the shaking. Somehow their hands, the ones handcuffed together, ended up pressed against his heart with his over hers and it made her bury her face deeper into his chest.

"Who was it, love?" he asked softly, his free arm tightening around her. "Who was it who hurt you?"

"I can't- I can't breathe," she replied quietly. "_God._"

Emma took a gasping breath, the scent of him filling her lungs. It was strangely soothing. Then he started moving them towards the door and her head snapped up to his.

"Where-" She hiccuped. "Where are we going?"

"The best place I know to breathe."

She sniffled, her eyes studying the blue of his and understanding came easily. "Out to sea."

He smiled gently but didn't say anything, no longer pressing the issue. He simply led the way and she let him.


	8. Part 8

A/N: For Jenn, Happy (belated) Birthday, love! Thank you for the endless support and flails in my askbox ;) Also, thank you Ally for your input (it is highly valued and appreciated) and for putting up with my worries and freak outs about characterization and plot as this story continues to progress. Finally, thank you beautiful readers for your continued support and love of this fic. It's my baby and you know it makes me ridiculously happy how much you enjoy it :) It makes me wish I could bring you updates more frequently, but alas, real life :( OH, Captain Swan feels ahead, lots and lots of feels (over 6,000 words of feels - I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW), don't say I didn't warn you ;3

**Part 8**

They'd worked together to bring the ship out of the harbor – untangling ropes, raising sails – she'd been surprisingly efficient in helping him and it made him want to smile. Despite what she said, they actually did make a good team. It reminded him of their little adventure in the Enchanted Forest, climbing the beanstalk to retrieve the compass. He'd known even then how broken and lonely she'd been. It was something he'd picked up on easily because it was something he'd recognized in himself, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, and yet, his understanding of this – of _her_ – didn't ease the sting of her betrayal when it had happened, but that was for another time.

If they were ever going to stop running in circles around each other, there were things that needed to come to light, things that couldn't be inferred or simply glazed over and sugarcoated because it was too scary for either of them. It was long past time for them to settle this…_thing_ between them. He cared about her, he wanted her and he _knew_ those feelings were not one-sided. She just needed to stop being stubborn and admit it.

When everything was ready he'd offered to let her steer them out to sea. Truth be told, it would have been easier since she had the free hand, but she shook her head and opted to stand by as he did what he did best. The minute they crossed the boundaries of the harbor, he sighed contentedly, eyes alight with joy at the sight of open water in front of them.

Killian stayed at the helm, directing the ship out beyond the shore. The further they went, the more still and calm the world seemed to get. Here was freedom…peace…_home. _

A sudden breeze ruffled his hair then, caressing over his cheeks in welcome. _Hello old friend_, it seemed to say, and his mouth curved up in response. You could take the pirate out of the sea, but you could never take the sea out of the pirate.

He glanced over at Emma and found her with her eyes closed and her face tipped up slightly. The tear stains on her cheeks made him want to pull her in, to brush his lips over them, but he stayed where he was, draping his free arm over the wheel. He didn't have much to offer her, but he could give her this – undisturbed serenity. She needed it; he knew better than anyone how soothing and healing it could be out in the middle of clear blue skies and rolling seas.

He left her to her thoughts, allowing himself to enjoy the same tranquility – particularly since he hadn't been out in the ocean in an extensive amount of time.

"His name was Neal."

She said it softly, breaking the long silence and jolting him out of his own thoughts. They'd been sailing for quite some time and Killian, lulled by the familiar rock and sway of the ship, had drifted far off himself, but he didn't say anything in reply as he turned his head to study her profile.

"I was young," she told him. "We met thieving and the rest…well."

She shrugged and met his eyes. The sadness in them, the scars so deep below the surface, tugged at his heart. He resisted the urge to touch her, to soothe her, afraid he'd scare her off.

"He was older than I was. It was exciting, and dazzling, and…God, I was _young_," she reiterated, the meaning entirely different this time. "I was naïve, stupid. He…promised me a home. He promised me forever. With my past – thinking I'd been abandoned by my parents, jumping from home to home and living with strangers who didn't really want me either – you don't know how much I wanted _that_, how much I wanted for his promises to come true…and then he just left. Then I got sent to prison for a crime he committed, found out I was pregnant…"

His temper spiked then, the muscle in his cheek twitching as his jaw clenched. This Neal bloke had come along – knowing full well of the scars she carried – taken advantage of her youth and innocence, then had her punished for something of his doing. As if that weren't enough, he'd left her with even more scars to bear.

"Some odd years later Henry showed up to help me break a curse. I found out my parents were Snow White and Prince Charming, got sucked back into the Enchanted Forest through a portal and then ended up having a breakdown in front of Captain Hook a little while after I got back to Storybrooke. The end."

"That's quite a tale," he smiled gently.

"Yeah." She gave a wry laugh, looking back out to sea as she took a deep breath. "I've been alone for a very long time. It was…hard letting Henry in, now letting my parents in – I thought they'd abandoned me and it sort of just…ruined everything for later. I love them, and I don't blame them anymore, but it is what it is. I've got these…_walls_ miles high, surrounded by a moat with fire breathing dragons in it-"

He chuckled at that. "You don't say?"

"_Shut up._" Emma rolled her eyes at him, but the corners of her mouth twitched as she shoved at his shoulder lightly. She paused and didn't speak until a few moments later. "Look…you don't…want to get involved with me."

"Tis a bit late for that wouldn't you say?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched her. "I'm already involved with you, Emma. I have been since you and your lot of princesses pulled that rubble off me, and you damn near yanked my hair out as you held a blade to my throat and named me liar, and you tied me to that Godforsaken tree intending to leave me for the ogres if I didn't tell you the truth of who I was…"

He sighed, eyes locking with hers and holding intensely for a few heartbeats until finally, he shifted and turned to face her. "It's my turn to tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a young lad. He'd plans for the adventure of a lifetime – to travel the realms with his father at his side. They boarded a ship one day and the boy was filled with joy and excitement – he needed nothing more than the clothes on his back, miles of endless sea, and his family. A few ports passed and he awoke one morning, alone. His father was gone."

"Hook-"

"I found out later he was a fugitive. He fled in the middle of the night to avoid capture. He…he abandoned me. The sea was the only place that felt like home after that, so I stayed on the ship, grew from boy to man, and the rest, as you said…well." He gave her a soft, understanding smile. "Then the pirate fell in love with the wrong woman, was chastised by a Crocodile, and lived in a darkness so black it consumed him."

Killian moved, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear. His heart squeezed because now more than ever could he relate to her. "I've been alone for a very long time as well, Emma, just like you. It worked well enough for me, I'd gotten used to it after a time – the solitude, being driven by revenge, afraid to let anyone in because…who could ever love me? People…left because of me, were punished because of me – some of them paying with their lives. T'was my fate, it seemed, to destroy everything that I cared about."

He shifted, reaching for her this time and stepping up to cup her cheek in his hand. "You see, love…you and I, we're not so very different. In fact, we're the same broken, scarred people, with walls miles high. The only difference is that one day, that didn't work for me anymore. It stopped working the day we met."

She shifted nervously from foot to foot, casting her eyes downward, and he could feel her desire to run again, to shut him out. He wouldn't let her, not this time. He inched closer, anchoring her to him, willing her to stay.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, glancing back up as her hand rested over his and made the chains of the handcuffs clink together.

"Do you think I wanted this? Hmm?" he asked softly. "I already told you, I'd been hell-bent on my revenge for over 300 years – driven by it, satisfied in my grief and loneliness, knowing that one day, I'd have the Crocodile's head mounted on the wall in the study of my ship. Then you waltzed in, stubborn bint that you are, and you did what no one in centuries could do."

She shook her head, brow furrowing as she bit on her bottom lip. He knew she was trying to keep from crying again, to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from spilling over. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. He didn't want her to cry anymore, not about this.

"You made me feel alive again, Emma."

"Hook, I don't- I don't let people in because _I can't_." The frustration she was feeling was seeping through in her tone.

"You're letting _me_ in, aren't you?" He replied matter-of-factly, his voice a little sharp from his own thinning patience. He didn't even bother bringing up Henry, or her parents for that matter, because this wasn't about them. This was about him and what it would mean for her to take that leap into the unknown with him.

His words made her sigh exasperatedly. "I'm just trying to explain to you why this isn't going to work between us, why this can't happen."

"_Emma._ Open your eyes love, it's _been_ happening-"

"_I don't want it to!_" she cried suddenly, panicked almost, and her eyes went wide as the fear crept in again and gave way to defensive anger.

The words he'd been about to say died on his lips.

"_Stop_ pushing your feelings at me, Hook!" She jerked away abruptly, forcing his hand from her cheek as she backed away as much as she could with the handcuffs between them. "I am _not_ going to be your Milah replacement! That's what you're looking for, isn't it? Someone to shack up with? Someone to take away the bitter sting of an empty bed?" She scoffed then. "You'd say anything to get what you want, isn't that how you operate? You turn on the charm and women fall at your feet?"

She may as well have slapped him. His eyes burned brightly blue, his simmering temper beginning to boil under his skin. He knew exactly what was happening, knew the exact moment her walls had gone back up, knew that she had felt remorse the second the words left her mouth, but that didn't erase the burn.

When he spoke, his voice was shaking with hurt and rage. "I _loved_ Milah for 300 years. Everything I did was because of _her_, to avenge her death. I never wanted to betray her or forget her!" he barked, his face twisting in agony. "Don't stand there and try to cheapen that…do not speak to me of replacements, Emma! You don't- you don't _know_ how blurry the memories have become. Some days I wake up and I can't even properly recall her face, or what her voice sounded like. She is fading away and there is no way for me to stop it. I loved her, with everything that I had, and I didn't want to lose her. I never wanted any of this, with anyone else, but _it's bloody here_!"

He took a step towards her, unfazed by the fall of tears on her cheeks that she resentfully reached up to wipe away with her free hand.

"Turn the ship around, I want to go home!" she demanded, moving back with every forward step he took.

"Of course you do," he spat. "You're a bloody coward, Emma Swan. You left me on that beanstalk because you're a coward! You did the one thing that you've hated others doing to you…you want to run off again? You want to keep running? _Fine._"

She was about to say something in response and by the sharp look in her eyes he knew it was going to be heated, but he moved past her and cut her off before she had the chance to get a word in, heading down the short set of steps and onto the deck. There was a harsh tug on his handcuffed wrist, her resistance no doubt, but his resolve was set and she didn't have a choice but to follow.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he retorted. "Ridding you of me."

He was so _angry_ with her, stubborn woman that she was, and it was clouding his head, making his thoughts incoherent. He didn't know what else to do, what else to say. He'd all but laid himself at her feet and all she'd managed to do was stomp over him. If they weren't still attached he'd solve the matter by simply tossing her overboard to be done with her…but as much as the thought appealed to him, he knew he'd curse and grumble and pace the deck mere seconds before giving up and diving in after her frustrating arse.

Killian moved to one side of a set of small, stacked crates so that it was between him and Emma. He placed their linked hands over the top then lifted his eyes to hers.

"Wait a second, what are you talking about?" she wondered, her own eyes narrowed in confusion.

"We don't need a locksmith; I can take care of this myself." He gestured with his hook.

The protest was there in her eyes, but he didn't care.

"Pull," he ordered, and he knew it was an instinctual reaction on her part that she did as he commanded because he was already rearing back and taking aim. He struck at the links with complete accuracy before she could even draw a breath.

Her scream, more from surprise than fear, came the same time as a bright flash made them grimace and turn away from the blinding light. When Killian opened his eyes, the handcuffs were still intact. The air around it glimmered soft yellow then faded away.

"What the hell…" Emma hissed, meeting his gaze again. "Are you insane? What did you do?"

"That's impossible," he muttered, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

His eyes flickered back and forth between hers and the handcuffs. He paused, noting that there were still tears on her cheeks; he tried not to be affected by them, reminding himself that he was upset with her, but he frowned nonetheless.

Then before Emma could say anything else, he struck out at the cuffs once more, a little harder this time. It should have easily broken the links, freeing them of each other, but it happened again – Emma's cry of objection, the bright flash followed by the yellow glow around the restraints. It made him curse.

_Damn it. _He didn't want to do this right now. He didn't want to be around her. She'd hurt him, and she wanted to run again and he was going to let her because he wasn't sure how to stop her anymore. He was _tired_ of this back and forth and all he wanted was to sulk and brood in solitary in the privacy of his ship. It seemed the Fates had other ideas.

"Why is it doing that?" she asked.

He stared blankly at their joined wrists. "They're enchanted."

"_What?_"

Well, that explained why they couldn't get them open earlier. He frowned a second time, baffled. "Where did you say Henry got these?"

"What do you mean '_they're enchanted_?'" Emma cried, her voice tinged with panic yet again. "They can't be enchanted, why would they be enchanted?"

"How the bloody hell should I know?" He answered, annoyed by the sudden turn of events.

"Well now what?" She stood straight, lifting their hands from the crate and running her free hand over her face exasperatedly, removing the remnants of her tears.

"I've no clue…I mean, I'm no expert in magic but my guess would be that if they're enchanted, the removal must be done magically which would render your locksmith useless."

"Wait a minute, so you're saying we're _stuck_ together?"

He smirked, but this time there was none of his usual amusement behind it. "Believe me…I'm just as overjoyed as you are, love."

* * *

It was late into the evening and they were seated on a large crate on his ship, legs stretched out and backs propped against a mound of crates behind them. The boat was docked back in the harbor and the bottle of rum they'd been sharing between them was almost empty. He got what he wanted, to brood and sulk on his ship. It wasn't in solitary though, but it may as well have been…he and Emma hadn't said a word to each other in hours. Even when she'd called her parents to let them know where she was and subsequently spent the next twenty minutes talking David down from wanting to come over and chaperone after learning where she'd be spending the night, he couldn't bring himself to make any quips to annoy him. She'd successfully soured his mood and ruined his fun.

He was staring up at the stars, mind blank, when she spoke and broke the silence much like she had earlier.

"Are they different in other realms?"

"What?" he replied softly.

"The stars. Are they different?"

"In some, yes." Oddly enough, this realm shared a Neverland sky, but reversed. He almost shared that fascinating bit of information with her then changed his mind, not wanting to speak anymore than he had to. The words that came next slipped out of their own accord – he blamed it on the buzz from the alcohol. "They're still wondrous no matter where you are...beautiful, out of reach."

He turned, not really intending to give her a pointed look then, it was just something that happened – he blamed that on the liquor as well. She didn't see though, she had her eyes closed while she rested her head back against the wood.

Killian took advantage of the unguarded moment to study her for a minute. The pale blue moonlight dancing over fair skin and hair made her appear like a night Pixie meant to collect stardust across the land. He cursed himself for wanting so much.

"It's rude to stare," she murmured. There was a teasing lilt in her voice, also an effect from the alcohol no doubt.

He didn't say anything, returning his gaze back to the sky, but all he saw there was her. This time he cursed her.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," she told him. "It was…cruel, and I knew better but I said it anyway…I said it to hurt you, and I did, and I'm sorry."

Killian sighed, feeling her eyes on him, but he made no move to face her or respond in any way.

"So you're still mad at me, then?" she asked.

He wondered about the childlike, pouting tone in her voice. "Yes and no," he told her honestly, his own voice devoid of any of the heat and anger he might have felt from before. "You frustrate me, Emma."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

He gave a wry laugh at that. "No, it wouldn't be the first." He looked at her finally. "Nor will it be the last."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, giving him an apologetic smile.

"You said that already," he said, equally as soft.

They sat staring at each other for a long time, the high emotions from earlier replaced by simple understanding. They were both drained; they didn't wish to fight anymore, at least for the time being.

"Do you know why you've made yourself so good at picking out lies?" he asked after awhile. "Why you've honed your instincts to be able to read people?"

"Mmm," she hummed. "I bet you're going to tell me."

"Because you always want the truth."

She made another little humming sound of agreement before casting her eyes away from him. "Still that open book, huh?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was pulling away again but he was too exhausted to bring it up and restart their endless cycle of push and pull. He sighed again.

"Look, this is the truth, Emma. I think you're bloody brilliant. I told you as much a long time ago, in the giant's lair, and I still think it. You're amazing. Everything I said to your father this morning about you being strong, and beautiful, and intelligent…I meant every word of that."

"Hook…" She shook her head gently and looked down at her hand in her lap as she gave a weary sigh that was almost a plea. "I already told you, I can't give you what you want," she told him quietly.

This time it was he who moved his head back and forth. "I don't think it's that at all. I think…you simply refuse to because you're afraid. Don't punish me for the mistakes of another man-"

"Punish you?" Her eyes shot to his. "I'm not trying to punish you, Hook…this- this isn't about you at all. It's about me-"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Emma."

"Pretty damn sure of yourself, aren't you?" The corners of her mouth turned up sadly. "I know your type, and not just with the women, but _you_. You're a wanderer, an adventurer. I saw you earlier when we were out there. You love it, that's your home. You'd never survive too long without it, without that freedom, and I'd never want you to give that up; I'd never ask you to."

He refused to be baited into another argument at her ridiculous belief that he collected women like trophies. "Even a wanderer needs roots, darling…and shouldn't those decisions be mine to make?"

"And what happens when the wind changes? When the seas call? When you make the decision to leave?"

"Are you counting on me to leave, then?" he wondered. "Is that- is that what you want?" He looked away, voice softening again, unsure if he wanted to hear her reply.

"Yes- no- I mean…" She exhaled a breath then rested her head back against the crate as she studied him. "Why are you being difficult? I'm just trying to save us both from a lot of unnecessary hurt and drama."

"Emma, listen to me," he said, mirroring her and leaning his head against the wood as well. "The things I've done in the past would leave you sleepless for weeks. I was an animal. I would have done anything for my revenge- I _did_ do almost anything. The place I was in was so dark and bottomless, and you changed that. I don't know why…I don't even know _how_, but you did. You change _me_. You make me see more than darkness and revenge."

She closed her eyes at his words and made a sound of disapproval. "You give me too much credit."

"Maybe you don't give yourself enough," he answered. "There's so much more than what I've allowed into my life. _You_ taught me that…and there's so much more than what you're allowing into your own. Emma, living in fear means he wins, that he's still in control of your every thought and action. Don't you think it's time to let go of the past, love?"

"You should be with someone with less baggage than me," she murmured.

"It's no less than mine…in fact, I think it's quite far less than mine." This time when he sighed, he closed his eyes and his voice was as pleading as hers had been just moments before. "Emma…you're the only person to make me feel like this in centuries. Why would I want anyone else?"

"There'll be no coming back from this," she told him.

"Perhaps I don't want to come back from this."

"I meant for _me_."

"Well…perhaps I don't want you to come back from this either."

He looked at her, eyes moving slowly over her face as if to memorize every curve. Her eyes were deeply blue in the moonlight, a bottomless ocean of emotion, and he felt entirely too much – far more than one person should for another. When she turned away again, he didn't press.

"I don't know what you want me to say." She worried her bottom lip, her eyes closing tiredly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

Killian's fingers brushed over her hand, the one handcuffed to his. "Whatever it is you'd like to say…whatever it is you want to feel."

She tensed only briefly, surprising him when her hand turned under his to clasp it gently. "What if I don't want to say anything?"

She scooted closer to him and tipped her head against his shoulder. It made his heart skip one tiny beat.

"What if I don't want to feel anything?" she continued.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair when she settled in next to him, chuckling softly as he indulged in the moment. He felt it from her then, the need to just _be_…even for a short time.

"What am I going to do with you?" he whispered before brushing his lips against her temple and angling his head to look at her face. "Hmm?"

Her eyes were still shut and she didn't reply. The corners of his mouth curved up gently and he shook his head a final time as he rested his cheek to the top of her head once more. _Stubborn lass._

Emma had long since fallen asleep when the answer finally came to him. Words meant nothing to her, she'd been given them all her life and they'd done nothing but disappoint her. His Emma, she wanted the actions. She wanted the physical proof that he meant what he said about staying, about not hurting her.

His thumb stroked over the curve of her hand, still clutched in his, and he smiled. He had every intention of giving it to her – the actions, the proof. They could start tomorrow, after she'd had a good night's rest…and after he convinced her to get used to the idea. It wasn't going to be easy, she'd put up a fight no doubt, but he always thought himself quite resilient.

Mind made up, Killian shifted, turning his head to touch his lips to her hair again. "Emma," he murmured.

"Mmm?" She stirred but didn't move and it made him laugh quietly.

"Emma," he said again. "Come on, love."

He moved, sliding off the crate to stand while keeping her hand in his. He gave a light tug and she came awake a little more.

"_God_," she whined. "_What?_"

"It's getting cold and you're for bed," he told her, helping her ease forward so that she could stand.

"I'm tired," she complained.

"I can see that," he chuckled, not at all surprised considering the combination of exhaustion and alcohol in her system. "And grumpy…come on."

He made for the direction of his quarters but she made to sit down again. He caught her around the waist with his free arm, knowing they'd never make it anywhere if she fell back asleep now.

"Oh, no you don't," he protested.

"I want to go to sleep," Emma moaned, draping her own free arm over his shoulder and leaning against him when he wouldn't let her back down.

She nuzzled her face into his neck and he froze as their joined hands came to rest over his heart. He sighed as he touched his cheek gently to her forehead. She was going to be the death of him.

"I know, I know," he soothed and squeezed her hand comfortingly, protectively.

"_Sleep_," she insisted.

"Up you go then," he murmured, solving everything by tightening his arm around her and hoisting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively and she exhaled in contentment once she was off her feet. Her body naturally curled around him.

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose as he carried her into his cabin. She'd called him a child earlier, back in the station, but she was wrong. His Emma, _she_ could be such a child sometimes.

Killian laid her down gently then used his hook to free up the blankets. It wasn't a simple task but when she was firmly tucked in, he slid in beside her – face-to-face.

"Did you take me to bed?" she asked, eyes still closed. She burrowed into her – _his_ – pillow and his heart lodged itself into his throat.

"In a manner of speaking," he chuckled, body relaxing easily beside her. Of all the times he'd imagined having her here for the first time – in his cabin, in his bed – being handcuffed to her and doing absolutely nothing else but sleeping had definitely not been a scenario he conjured up.

"My father's going to kill you."

"Most likely."

"Sorry," she muttered sleepily.

"I'm not worried."

"You should be."

"I'm more worried about you," he replied softly, absentmindedly reaching for her hand – it felt easy, it felt right. "Taking advantage of the poor, defenseless pirate."

She snorted at that, but snuggled in closer until she fit just under his chin. "You're the one to worry about."

"Me? Have you forgotten? I'm always a gentleman."

"Liar."

He chuckled quietly. "Are you cold?"

"You're warm," she replied softly, and he knew she was near dropping off into sleep again.

"Goodnight, Emma." He shifted slightly so that he could touch his forehead against hers and smiled.

"'Night…"

Her breathing evened out not long after and for the first time in God knows how long, Killian fell asleep to the beat of someone else's heart.

* * *

Michael grinned at the image reflected in the well. It shimmered on the water, the picture distorting occasionally, but it was clear enough – his parents asleep, cuddling in bed, looking content and…right. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back. The handcuffs were a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself, and that looked like a hell of a lot of progress.

He waved his hand across the circular space, magic zinging familiarly through his body, and watched as the water began to glow a brilliant yellow. He smirked as the handcuffs on their wrists clicked open quietly and fell off between their bodies. His fingers curled into his palm and the image abruptly faded away.

"All in a days work," he smiled to himself. Henry was definitely going to be happy, he'd been anxious about it all day.

Michael stretched tiredly, moving away from the well and getting ready to head back to Granny's when he paused abruptly, a thought crossing his mind. He worried on his bottom lip – a gesture so like Emma's – as he frowned. He shouldn't. He _really_ shouldn't but…he had to _know_. He had to see what was happening, to see how much time they had left.

Stepping back up to the well, he took a deep breath and centered himself. It didn't take much focus to reawaken the magic though; it was easy, like breathing. He was about to wave his hand back over the water but he hesitated. He should listen to his gut, that's what his grandfather had taught him, but he wasn't sure if his hesitation came from fear or from instinct. If it was fear, he'd face it head on – he'd learned that from his father.

Before he could change his mind, he swept his hand a second time across the top of the well. The water glowed yellow again, but this time the image that appeared was of Emma – not his mother, not even the Emma from this time, but the _other_ Emma…the dark one.

She was fast asleep in her bed and the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding blew out in relief. He studied her silently. It was face he was so familiar with, a face he loved so much, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Evil was here, he could feel it even across the magical window.

Michael sighed, there was nothing here, nothing that would help him, so he made to close the veil he had opened – a harmless ghost of an observer; she'd never even know he'd been there.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly and he jumped, fear tightening his stomach when she smiled maliciously and seemed to be staring directly at him. That was impossible though, she couldn't know- let alone _see_-

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it isn't very nice to spy on others?" she cackled softly.

He couldn't react, he didn't have time. The blast of magic that spewed out from the well hit him full force and sent him sprawling backwards. He cried out in pain, body hitting the ground roughly almost twenty feet from the well.

The sound of her laughter echoed around him as he groaned and pushed himself up. _Bloody hell._ He definitely hadn't been expecting _that_.

Magic sparked warningly around him, dark purple, and his own, as gold and bright as the sun, pushed out to form a protective shield around him. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel comforted by it.

_Tick-tock, kid. Tick-tock._

The chilling voice taunted him, resounding in his mind, and he wasn't certain if it was that or his injured body that made him nauseous. His body heaved but he forced the bile back down, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing him weakened. He turned his head to spit the blood from his mouth.

"Go to hell," he said just as the world went eerily still.

They were in trouble; they were in _a lot_ of trouble.


	9. Part 9

A/N: Hello beautiful readers! I'm baaaaaaaaaack! FINALLY! Missed you all and my endless apologies for real life taking over and sucking all my time away :( Anyway, I'll keep this short and leave you to what you really came for ;) Enjoy and let me know what you think!

**Part 9**

Emma came awake slowly, her body stretching lazily as she sighed. She felt like crap…groggy, tired, out of sorts. _Ugh._ She had no idea what was going on but she was about 98% sure this wasn't her bed. It was too comfortable, the pillow her head rested on too soft…and the smells were definitely not the same, they were too…_masculine_. She groaned quietly, her throat dry and making the sound appear hoarser in the quiet. _What the hell?_

She shifted, trying to force her brain to focus, and bumped into something solid and warm then. She froze abruptly – not something, _someone_ – and her eyes shot open. The memories came almost instantaneously.

_Do you know what your problem is?" He barked, pointing his hook at her. "__**You don't let people in**__-"_

_She scoffed at that, cutting him off. "And you do?"_

"_I'm __**trying**__, Emma, but you won't bloody meet me halfway!"_

…

_He shifted, reaching for her this time and stepping up to cup her cheek in his hand. "You see, love…you and I, we're not so very different. In fact, we're the same broken, scarred people, with walls miles high. The only difference is that one day, that didn't work for me anymore. It stopped working the day we met."_

…

"_Emma…you're the only person to make me feel like this in centuries. Why would I want anyone else?"_

"_There'll be no coming back from this," she told him._

"_Perhaps I don't want to come back from this."_

"_I meant for me." _

"_Well…perhaps I don't want you to come back from this either."_

Her face twisted in distress and a quiet whimpering sound hummed in the back of her throat. Not just anyone…_Hook_.

_Oh God._ The mortification settled into the bottom of her stomach. She'd been more than just an open book yesterday, she'd been…_vulnerable_. Emma Swan did _not_ do vulnerable. _Ever. _Vulnerable was dangerous. Vulnerable got you hurt. She knew that better than anyone and that was a mistake she had always been determined never to repeat again. And yet with Hook…she'd done just that. She'd let her guard down – not a lot, but enough. It wasn't like he needed much to get to her anyway, to get under her skin, and that was just a little short of terrifying.

_Oh God._ What had she done? Why did she think that it would be a good idea? She wanted to cover her face with her hands but she resisted the urge, lest she wake him and find herself in another situation she wasn't entirely prepared to deal with. Instead she settled for burying her face further into his pillow, silently cursing when the scent of him filled her lungs. She didn't know why she wanted to cry, but she was now 98% sure she was going to be sick. It wasn't the alcohol, they hadn't drunk enough for that, but she refused to admit that it was anything else.

Then _he_ groaned in his sleep, a deep, soft rumbling in his chest and her body tensed, her breath holding as the arm around her waist tightened. She stilled, waiting for him to wake, and when he didn't she exhaled in relief. But that was short-lived when a thought crossed her mind and her brow furrowed suddenly. _Huh._ Well that was _weird_, she was pretty sure that they hadn't fallen asleep _spooning_ because the handcuffs- _the handcuffs!_

Emma lifted her head, glancing down at where her hands were resting in front of her – sans handcuffs. _What?_ Her eyes moved further down and she scowled when she saw that his hand was devoid of the restraints as well. _How the hell?_ She turned, glancing at him over her shoulder and wishing she hadn't when she saw how peaceful and relaxed he looked. His already handsome face took on an almost angelic-like quality and the hair falling over his brow made her fingers itch to brush it away.

_Oh God._ Her stomach clenched and she expected her flight response to kick into high-gear any second. It never did and that confused her, but it also scared the crap out of her. They were free, she didn't have to stay. She could slip out quietly and he'd never know…until he woke up anyway.

"Emma," he murmured softly then.

_Oh God._ He didn't say any more after that and after a couple heartbeats she was satisfied that he was still very much asleep-

_Oh God._ He'd said her name in his sleep. She pressed her lips together, her heart squeezing. She needed to leave. She had to. She couldn't do this. And still her flight response remained passive.

For the longest time she stayed there, not really sure of what to do. Her mind was a jumbled mess, but in between, the only thought that kept regularly surfacing was a very simple choice: stay or run.

She turned all the way around slowly, gently moving his arm off of her and attempting not to jostle him as she sat up. Her eyes flickered to the window; the dawn was just starting to break. They glanced at the door; her mind lurched towards it but she remained where she was. Finally they moved back to him; she sighed heavily. She didn't want to stay, at least that's what she tried to convince herself, but she couldn't seem to leave.

"Emma," he repeated, his voice barely audible as he snuggled deeper into his pillow with a little sigh. "Stay."

_Oh...God._ Tears sprang into her eyes, though she couldn't fathom why, and she lowered her head, unable to look at him. This time she did cover her face with her hands, trying to keep it together as her heart continued to ache in her chest.

Time passed indefinitely, she didn't know how long she waited or what it was she was even waiting for. Finally, after awhile, she shifted again. Slowly she lowered herself back onto the pillow, this time facing him. He stirred, making space for her, but he stayed with his dreams. Emma's eyes roamed his face as she listened to his steady breathing. She already knew the contours of that face – every angle, every curve, every scar – though she'd never admit to that.

After a moment, her hand reached up and she allowed herself the indulgence of moving his hair back from his brow. On its way down, her hand ghosted over the scruff on his jaw. She stopped herself short of touching him, of running her fingers across that scar on his cheek, but she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and it sent a shiver down her spine. Then she tucked her hands back under her cheek and watched him while he slept as one lone tear slipped down her cheek.

* * *

When Killian finally came to, the sun was streaming in through the window in his quarters and Emma was shifting away from him. He grunted, rubbing sleep from his eyes when it suddenly dawned on him that she was sitting up and rising from the bed. His gaze dropped to his wrist, surprised to see it without the handcuff and he pushed up on his elbows to stare at her with a confused look.

"Emma-"

"The cuffs came free earlier this morning, I'm not sure how." To emphasize her point, she tossed them onto the nightstand next to his bed. "I have to go," she continued, her clipped voice making his mouth clamp shut.

His brow quirked at her, his mood souring almost immediately. "Good morning to you too."

She didn't say anything as she walked over to his dresser and began combing her hair into a ponytail with her fingers. He studied her through the mirror but remained silent. So it was going to be like that, was it? She was just going to feign disinterest and act like nothing had happened the day before? Like he hadn't all but laid himself bare at her feet? Like she hadn't opened herself up to him – even just a little?

He watched her smooth her hair back, though it was already secure behind her head and he recognized the gesture as one of careful composure. She was rebuilding her walls back into place and it sparked his temper. She could try to hide all she wanted, but she was still an open book to him. Perhaps she'd always be that way. Then she started for the door, without so much as a glance at him and he sat up all the way.

"If the cuffs had released earlier," he called after her, making her stop in her tracks, though she still kept her back to him. "Why did you stay?"

Her breath caught at that and he would have missed it had he not been paying so close attention to her. Her silence spoke volumes, as did the side-ways little glare over her shoulder she gave him after a long moment. _A-ha, gotcha, _he thought. Killian watched as she threw the cabin door open, stomping out, and he scrambled out of bed.

"Emma!" he exclaimed. "Oh, no you don't, you stubborn lass," he murmured under his breath before shouting after her again. "Emma!" He raced out onto the deck just as she was about to board the gangplank. "_Swan!_"

"_What?_" she screamed back, finally turning around to face him as she threw her arms up exasperatedly. "What?"

They eyed each other from across the ship, the air cackling between them. He took one breath…two…and then he was storming towards her, damning everything inside of him that could no longer be denied _her_. By the time she realized his intention, it was too late, he was already crushing her to him, fusing his mouth to hers heatedly and swallowing whatever protest she had on her lips.

The world stopped. For one brief moment, everything went still, and then it all came apart, shattering into a million points of light that left him breathless and dizzy. Somebody groaned, whether it was him or her, he couldn't be sure. He _was_ sure, however, that it was her fingers digging into the lapels of his shirt and her mouth moving beneath his. She tilted her head back, in a kind of surrender, and his fingers tangled in her hair at the base of her neck, pulling gently so that her head tipped back further and her mouth met his more fully. His tongue swept across her bottom lip and there was another groan, this time he was positive it was her.

"_Emma_," he breathed gently, unknowingly using the same tone of voice as that morning when he'd said her name in his sleep.

The shove came so abruptly he staggered back in surprise. He barely had time to recover when her hand shot out and connected so sharply with his cheek that his head snapped to the side. He stood there unmoving, breathing hard…reeling. When he finally brought his eyes to hers, he found them a storm of emotion. And he felt like an ass. An apology was just forming on his lips when she cursed.

"Fuck it," she hissed, before promptly launching herself at him.

He caught her around the waist, hoisting her up so that her legs wrapped around his middle. Her hands delved into his hair and tugged restlessly while she kissed him. He met her head-on, pouring all of his pent-up frustration and desire into the kiss. This time it was he who groaned.

How long had he dreamed of this moment? How many times had he imagined this exact scenario? It didn't matter because the truth of it was that the reality – her solid and real against him – was far better than anything even his imagination could conjure.

"You're infuriating," she muttered against his mouth.

He chuckled, teeth nipping at her bottom lip and eliciting another groan from her. "I hope you're going to punish me for it."

"I hate you."

"You've a funny way of showing it, darling."

"Shut up," she replied, wiggling down and using her body to push him against a mound of crates to trap him there.

Closer. _Gods_, he needed her so much closer. "Gladly." He grunted as his back hit the wood but he sensed right away that something was wrong.

The pain that bloomed in his chest was unnatural. He grimaced and his hand gripped at her shoulder to pull her back. "Emma- Emma, wait-"

Her face tipped up to his and he gasped suddenly, arms coming up instinctively to force her backwards. Her eyes glowed deeply purple and her smile was malicious. This was _not_ his Emma. His Emma had sea-colored eyes that changed with her mood and sunshine bright smiles.

"What the- _wait_-"

"Hey there, handsome," she drawled, cutting him off with a giggle. She was unfazed by his sudden distaste for her, leaning in to link her arms around his neck.

He shrugged her off again, circling out of her grasp. "Who are you?"

Her features softened as her eyes widened in an innocent, doe-eyed expression. "Don't you recognize me, Killian? I'm Emma."

"Bollocks," he sneered, swatting her hand away when she reached for him again. "Do you think me daft?"

She smirked and her brow went up at his daring. "Actually I think you're quite intelligent. Handsome too. It's a pity it's your fate that you're set to ruin my plans-"

He frowned at that, his head starting to pound in confusion and…fear? "What plans? What are you talking about?" The room spun abruptly and he felt like he was going to be sick. "What have you done with Emma? If you've harmed her-"

"Harmed her?" She laughed at that, a full-bodied boisterous laugh. "Why would I harm her? She's the key, she's the future… _my future._"

"What do you mean?"

"Such a waste," Imposter Emma sighed then, brushing him off as she gave him the once-over and made his body shudder in disgust. "If you'd just stayed out of the way, my dear Captain Hook, I wouldn't have to resort to such drastic measures and you could have continued to be the legend you once were..."

"I don't- I don't understand-" He shook his head, her meaning unclear.

"You won't need to," she smiled sadly, almost sympathetically. "Because you'll be dead."

And then her hand was in his chest, squeezing around his heart, and everything inside of him felt like it was being crushed. His eyes squeezed shut at the pain – Gods, the _pain_ – it was far worse than when he'd had a hand in his chest before. He gasped for air but it was choked and felt like he was suffocating. He cried out before he fell to his knees and the world went black.

He awoke with a start, a scream tearing from his lips as he sat up in bed. "_No!_"

Automatically he reached for Emma, but her side of the bed was empty, save for her scent on his pillow and the handcuffs that lay where her head should have been. _Gods. Oh Gods. _He ran his hand over his face and found his brow damp with sweat. _A nightmare, it had just been a nightmare._

He didn't notice the edges of a dark purple fog receding into the cracks in the boards of the ship, nor hear the very faint evil cackling that echoed just beyond the walls. Had his brain not been so distracted, he might have even noticed the sudden and eerie stillness in the room.

"Emma?" he called for her, getting out of bed because he couldn't be still. He knew it was useless, she wasn't there – he could tell by the emptiness in the cabin – and judging by the coolness of the sheets, she hadn't been there for a long time.

He grumbled, snatching the cuffs off the bed and examining them. How the bloody hell did she even manage to get loose? The cuffs were supposed to be enchanted, a discovery they'd made just hours before.

The sun filtered in through the open window of his cabin and he surmised it was about mid-morning. Killian scowled grumpily. That was odd in and of itself, he never slept in late. Odder still was the fact that Emma had managed to slip away without his knowing. He'd always been a light sleeper, he should have awakened the second she'd been up and moving.

His chest continued to heave as if he'd just been running while the ache around his heart throbbed with every beat. He tossed the metal restraints onto his nightstand and his hand fell to his chest, rubbing at the ache there and reminding him that it had been one bitch of a nightmare. He shook his head, shrugging it off. No matter, it was done now, though even that reassurance couldn't stop the dread weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He started pacing, still a little shaken from his dream and maybe a little – _a lot_ – irritated that she'd just _left_ in the middle of the night. Frustrating, stubborn woman – damned if he wasn't so…_attached_ to her.

Then his eyes fell to a scrap of paper on the floor. He picked it up as he rubbed the rounded part of his hook over the continued ache in his chest. It was a hastily written note – _I'm sorry._

Killian sighed heavily, plopping himself back on the edge of his bed. He read it once more before crumpling it in his hand and tossing it at the door. "Damn it, Emma."

* * *

"David," Emma sighed for the millionth time into her phone. "I told you, I'm _fine. Relax._" She rolled her eyes as she listened to him. "I have no idea, I just woke up and they were…off. Look-" she cut in when he plowed on with more questions. "I will explain as much as I can as soon as I get a chance, _I promise_, but first I'm meeting Henry at the bus stop to see him off before school and then I'm stopping by Granny's to get some coffee." Her eyes went skyward again but the corners of her mouth tugged up. "You're such a dad sometimes," she teased before saying her goodbyes and hanging up.

She spotted Henry as she rounded the corner of a building, waving back when he smiled and bounded over to her.

"Hi," he grinned brightly.

"Hey kid," she smiled. Then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she eyed him curiously. "You're awfully…chipper this morning."

Henry shrugged but his smiled stayed in place and Emma couldn't help feeling like something was up.

"Missed you at dinner last night," her son said as a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

That made her own eyes narrow at him. _Hmm._ "Yeah, I was…detained. Any cookies left?"

"You don't look very…detained anymore," he replied pointedly. Then he looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

Of course, she should have figured. Between him and David, Snow's cookies didn't have a chance. "Yeah," she answered. "Cuffs came off this morning, didn't even need a locksmith."

"Oh?" Henry mused as he watched her, his expression innocent.

"Yep." _Too innocent._ "Speaking of, where did you get those?"

"At the store, where else?" he answered abruptly.

_Too abruptly._ "It was so weird that we couldn't get them off. I mean, they were just a pair of dinky handcuffs. You'd think between myself, Snow White, Prince Charming, and Captain Hook, we'd be able to remove them."

"So weird," he agreed, unfazed by the glare she was giving him. "Must have been defective or something."

_Or something._ "You knew they were enchanted, didn't you?"

"_What?_" he cried incredulously, his face the perfect image of shock. "What do you mean?"

Emma's brow rose at that and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Crazy, right? I can't imagine what my son would be doing with enchanted handcuffs."

"Oh look! There's the bus, gotta go, bye Mom! Love you!" And he was off like a shot.

"Hen- _Henry!_" she called after him, shaking her head as his disappeared up the steps into the bus. She didn't know what game he was playing, but she did know that he couldn't avoid her forever.

She watched the bus leave, waiting until it was out of sight before stepping off the curb and heading towards Granny's.

"Miss Swan," a voice said from behind her.

She whirled, nearly jumping out of her skin. "Gold! Jesus Christ!"

He gave her an amused look but didn't apologize for scaring her. "A bit jumpy this morning, are we?"

"It's been a long…week," she told him. "Was there something you needed?"

He shook his head and leaned on his cane. "No, but there was something _you_ wanted."

Her ears perked up at that, remembering the favor she had called him for a few weeks back: to find information on their latest arrival in Storybrooke, Michael LeBlanc. "Did you find anything?"

Gold shook his head again but his expression remained neutral. "No."

Emma waited for him to continue and when he didn't her brows went up. "That's it? Nothing? You've been working on this for almost two weeks now!"

"Not a thing."

She didn't believe him. He _knew_ something, she could tell by the flash of..._something_ in his eyes. "But…there can't be _nothing_! He had to have come from _somewhere_, someone must know him."

"Quite a puzzle, isn't it?" Gold nodded at her, giving her a tight smile as he started to limp off.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To meet Belle for breakfast." He waved her off with an impatient flick of his wrist.

"Gold-"

He turned then, sighing at her. "_Think_ Miss Swan. You know the answers already. The boy's lack of paper trail and records…the suddenness of his arrival…almost as if he _poofed_ in out of thin air like-"

"Magic," she murmured. "Wait a second, are you saying that he's…from your- _our_ world?" She corrected herself at the look he gave her.

"There are a number of magical realms out there Miss Swan, not just ours."

She scowled at him but resisted rolling her eyes. "Do you always talk in riddles?"

"No," he smiled. "But it's quite more fun that way. Enjoy your day Miss Swan. Oh!" He held his finger up as if he'd almost forgotten to tell her something, then he reached into his pocket and tossed her a coin. "Here, this might come in handy someday."

She stared at it, utterly baffled. "For what?"

"To make a wish." He pointed in the direction of the woods with his cane. "I hear there's a lovely little well not far from here." And with that he left her be.

Her instincts _screamed_ at her that he knew exactly what was going on and who Michael was. _Gold_ was the one who had all the answers, he always did. She glanced back down, turning the coin in her hand and frowning over it. He was telling her to go to the well. But did he mean now? Or later? He'd said 'someday' after all. But why?

The questions kept piling up and her patience was thinning rapidly. Between this and…Hook, it was a wonder she didn't simply pull all her hair out. She looked up, intending to interrogate him further, but he was already gone and she found herself standing on an empty street.

"This is like a fucking horror movie," she muttered, looking around as she pocketed the coin and fully expecting the Boogey Man to jump out at any moment.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she cursed, laughing at herself when it had scared her. The caller ID read _David Cell_ and she rolled her eyes as she picked it up. "I. Am. On. My. Way. _Dad._" And she hung up on him.

She glanced at her reflection in one of the store windows, smoothing back her hair even though it was already pulled back. She needed to be as presentable as possible. She knew she already looked like a tired mess; she didn't need to be raising David's suspicions on her sleeping arrangements the night before any more than they already were.

Emma cleared her throat, aggressively pushing back her thoughts on the matter and trying not to feel guilty about the way she had just...left. Her heart squeezed again but she ignored it, giving her hair a final pat. Satisfied that was as good as it was going to get, she sighed and turned away to head for the station. She was going to make her dad buy her coffee. And breakfast, just for the hell of it.

She didn't notice the deep purple glow around the window as she turned away, or that her reflection remained even after she had gone. The Emma in the glass raised a brow and smiled – a wicked, evil smile – before fading away.

Across the street, Emma paused to look back. A funny feeling settled between her shoulder blades, like she was being watched, but the street was as empty as it had been just a few moments before. She shoved her hands into her pockets and told herself she was being silly, though when she started walking again, she quickened her pace just a little bit.


	10. Part 10

A/N: Hello dear readers! There's a TON of stuff in this update and I don't even know how to preface this chapter without revealing too much so…here it is, have fun, and enjoy the ride ;) Oh, also…a fun little tidbit for those of you not on Tumblr with me: I've officially cast Logan Lerman as Michael ;)

**Part 10**

"There's something strange in the air," David said as he stormed agitatedly into the apartment.

Snow glanced up from the papers she was grading and watched as her husband shrugged out of his jacket then began pacing restlessly back and forth with his hands on his waist. It was a familiar stance, one she'd come to know very well over the years whenever he was stressed. She didn't say anything, already attuned to his mood, and waited for him to continue.

"Did you talk to Emma?"

"About…Hook?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

He stopped abruptly and pinned her with a hard look. "Hook? What about Hook? She said nothing happened with Hook."

Snow picked up her cup of cocoa and hid her knowing smirk behind the sip she took. She just _barely_ resisted rolling her eyes and managed to keep her expression neutral. It was past time that everyone just admitted that there was something going on between Emma and Hook – a blind man could see it for goodness sake. The fact that it had even gone on this long without something juicy happening was utterly _ridiculous_ to her.

She shook her head and took another sip. "Of course not, sweetheart," she soothed. "I just wasn't sure what it was you were referring to."

She had to admit that she had her reservations about him in the beginning – after everything that had happened back in the Enchanted Forest then here in Storybrooke, how could she not? But then she'd seen the way he'd looked at Emma when he thought no one was watching and it had touched her heart. Words could be deceiving, but actions on the other hand were harder to ignore. So were longing looks for that matter, and since Snow had turned into a romantic after her own happy ending, it was only natural to want someone to cherish her daughter the way she had been so cherished by a man.

Her heart gave a wistful little sigh as she set her mug down and locked eyes with her Prince. Her Charming. Her True Love...who was scowling at her. The corners of her mouth tugged up. "What's wrong?"

He sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "I don't know what it is, it's just this…_feeling_ that I have-"

"Back or stomach?" she wondered, cutting him off as she perked up her in her chair.

"Shoulders," he answered, pausing to give her a pointed look.

She frowned then, teeth chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. David had always had incredible instincts about things and whenever he got one of his 'feelings,' it was usually a cause for worry. Over the years she'd learned that where his feelings settled often determined the degree to which they needed to worry; his shoulders signaled trouble, an exorbitant amount.

"Charming," she said quietly as she stood up.

"_I don't know_," he replied frustratedly. "I don't know. It…it feels like a storm's brewing."

He moved towards the window, resting his hand against the wall next to it as he looked out to study the town. How many times had she seen that too? How many times had he walked out onto the balcony of their suite in the palace to look out at the kingdom, worrying about how he was going to protect what was most precious to him?

She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her lips to his shoulder. He sighed again but reached down to cover her hands with one of his and she turned her cheek to rest against his back as dread began to creep up her spine.

"How do we raise arms in defense of something unknown?" she murmured.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" He looked back, eyeing her in his peripheral vision. "I hate this part, the waiting. It makes me edgy."

"I know, my love," she spoke gently, feeling the tension in his body. She kissed him again in hopes of relieving some of it then focused to keep her breathing even and her head clear as the silence took over. "We should tell Emma," she said after a few indulgent, brooding moments had passed.

"Tell her what? It doesn't do any good to worry her over something when we don't even know what we're worrying about."

"She trusts you, and wouldn't you rather her be on the lookout for trouble? The more prepared we are, the less surprises there'll be and the better equipped we'll be to deal with..._whatever_ it is that we're supposed to deal with when the time comes."

When he remained silent, she rolled her eyes and turned him around before linking her arms back around his middle. Her expression softened at the look on his face. "As much as you want to, you can't protect us from everything."

"I can if I build a fire-breathing dragon-protected moat around a tower and lock you all in there."

She laughed at that and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth over his. "The sentiment is sweet, but you've a family full of independent-thinking warrior-types." Her hands trailed gently up and down his back and she smiled affectionately. "Sorry."

He huffed but drew her in for a hug and she settled naturally into the warmth of his embrace. "We'll figure it out, Charming. We'll be okay, you'll see."

"There always seems to be something," he muttered.

"And we'll face it together, as we always promised to do." She closed her eyes and imagined the love and light she had inside of her moving into him, hoping the energy would ease his mind even a little.

"Okay," he said finally, his arms tightening around her. "Okay."

* * *

Michael ended up at the stables as he so often did in his world. It was his safe place, his favorite place – he'd practically grown up there, much to his father's chagrin and his grandfather's delight. The thought made him smile. His mother had always teasingly – and poetically – told his father that it was Michael's good fortune to be both a 'Prince of Sea and Land,' a statement that often resulted in Killian rolling his eyes and Michael sniggering at his grumbling. It wasn't that he didn't love the sea and the ship, he _did_, there was just something about being around the horses that resonated deeply with him – taking care of them, training them, riding them out into the woods and along the shore...it just _fit_.

He walked along the dirt path from the pasture to the stables, everything so familiar yet at the same time so _un_familiar. It looked almost the exact same from his world, save for the normal wear and tear caused by time, but the biggest difference was that it didn't _feel_ like home. He wouldn't find his horses in the stalls, or his big brother wanting to race him and their steeds around the clearing while the sun came up, or his grandfather with a fresh thermos of hot cocoa, his grandmother's cookies, and a story for breakfast.

He sighed, ignoring the fist squeezing tightly around his heart, and gripped the handle of the door to slide it open. At the first whinny from one of the horses, a soft smile tipped his mouth up. There was enough of his world in this one to offer him a little bit of comfort and he would gladly take what he could get.

As he stepped inside, the stable seemed to come alive, the horses making what seemed to be welcoming noises as they all poked their heads over their stalls to see who had come to visit. He smiled at that too. Back in his world, these creatures naturally just gravitated towards him; it seemed across times that didn't change.

At the end of the row of stalls, a filly neighed restlessly and something about the sound drew Michael towards the back. Absentmindedly he reached out to pet the muzzle of a horse that nudged at his arm as he walked by.

"Hey buddy," he murmured, before reaching into his pocket to offer it a sugar cube. "Handsome guy, aren't you?" he chuckled.

He didn't realize how tense he had been until the sights, sounds, and smells of the stables made his body relax. He spent a little more time with the stallion, giving him a final stroke along his cheek before continuing on. As he glanced over the last wooden stall door, he stopped abruptly and his eyes went wide.

A beautiful palomino filly stared up at him with bright, curious amber-colored eyes, her shiny coat gleaming golden even in the lighting of the stables. At the sight of the diamond-shaped patch of white on its forehead, Michael couldn't help but exhale a shaky breath. They stood staring at each other for a few minutes until finally the filly walked right up to the door of the stall and offered her head up for a rub. When he didn't move, she snorted and pawed once at the door. He blinked then finally reached down to pet her between the eyes.

"Hey pretty girl," he spoke softly as he moved to let himself into the stall. Once inside, she nuzzled her face against his side and his heart lodged itself into his throat. His fingers skimmed over the bit of white on her forehead. "Hey Lady…hey old friend…"

Lady, this gorgeous little thing, was the first horse his grandfather had let him care for when he was old enough. She was destined to be Snow's horse and David's favorite, and she would grow up to be the dam to Michael's champion stallion, Goliath. They would lose her tragically, there would be no way around it, and the knowledge of what would come to pass – of the circumstances surrounding such a heartbreaking event – left a deep ache in his chest.

He sighed again, hands stroking over her neck, as he fought back on the tears suddenly pricking behind his eyes. It all came crashing down onto his shoulders then, the weight of this war, and Michael didn't know how much longer he could stand it. This was far too much for one person to bear. He just wanted to go home; he just wanted his family and for everything to be the way that it was before dark magic and evil forces, and before he became the one and only hope to save his parents so that they could in turn save the happy endings.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he muttered.

"That's exactly what I want to know."

Michael turned at the voice, locking eyes with a scowling David. Under normal circumstances he would have replied with some pain-in-the-ass retort, but there was a deep frown marring the Prince's brow and Michael wanted nothing more than to reveal his identity and to tell David the truth just to stop the look of such distrust on his face. He'd give anything to simply be David's grandson again and find comfort in his grandfather's warm, welcoming embrace. There wasn't anything that his Gramps couldn't fix and if it weren't so risky, he'd gladly turn this feat over to him.

"I…" Michael started, but couldn't find the strength to finish.

"This is private property," David snapped irritably.

"I...was just meeting the filly," he said lamely, unable to muster up the usual snark he had waiting for him in recent weeks.

David gave him an odd look as his hands fell to his waist, but he didn't respond. Instead he studied Michael for a few moments, his piercing blue eyes unreadable. After another minute, David reached out to open the door of the stall. Michael took that as his cue to exit and he dropped his gaze away as he walked out.

"Deputy," he began.

But David cut him off with the shut of the door then surprised him by leaning over the wood to study the filly instead of aggressively standing off with him. "Her name's Lady."

Michael remained where he was, unsure of what to say or do. "She's…beautiful."

"Did you live on a farm?" David asked, glancing back over his shoulder at him.

"I…why do you ask?" he wondered suspiciously, though he inched closer until he stood next to David and he too could rest his arms over the stall door and watch Lady.

"You've a natural way in here, like you've been around it all of your life."

"No, not on a farm, but I grew up around horses," he didn't know why he had told him, maybe it was the way that he had asked or the way that he had been looking at him, but regardless, Michael should have just left. "My…grandparents, they loved horses, especially my grandfather. He…he grew up on a farm, mostly tended sheep though when he was younger."

"Huh," David replied, turning his head to glance at him, but he didn't say any more, just continued to watch him.

Michael couldn't take it. He shifted nervously under his gaze then abruptly stepped away. "I'm sorry, I should go."

"Michael," David called, stopping him in his tracks. "What happened to your face?"

His hand automatically reached up to cover the healing bruise at the corner of his mouth from when he'd been blasted by dark magic a few nights ago. "Nothing," he lied, meeting David's eyes briefly before turning back around.

"Kid, if you're in some kind of trouble," he said, hurriedly moving to block his path out the stables. "I can help you, but you need to start talking."

His defensive walls shot up finally and he shoved past David, shoulder checking him as he went by. "I don't need your help."

"Michael. Michael, wait!" David yelled after him.

He heard his grandfather's sigh of exasperation when he stepped back out into the sunlight but he kept going and he didn't stop until he was well away from the stables and all of the emotions and memories tied to it.

* * *

She wasn't avoiding Hook exactly…she was just making sure that she didn't end up anywhere he might end up at the same time. No, Emma wouldn't call that avoiding, just…exceptionally good planning.

She couldn't…face what had happened; she couldn't face what she had done or said or – _God – _any of it. For the most part she just walked around ignoring that nagging little voice inside her head that kept telling her she was too stubborn and to go find him and…and _what _exactly?

_And stuff!_

Ugh. Okay but what the hell was she supposed to do if she _did_ go and find him? Talk to him?

_Yes._

Her eyes rolled at that because really, what would she even talk to him about?

_About the weather, about the color of his eyes, about why you ran…the possibilities are endless. Hell, you could even…I don't know, man up and talk about your feelings – the real ones that you refuse to admit. _

"Fat chance," she mumbled, shoving her hands into her pockets and forcing a smile at one of the dwarves that waved at her as she passed. She'd rather have her nails ripped out with pliers before _ever_ speaking to him about..._that_ again.

She'd made her choice, hadn't she? When she'd left him that morning?

_You had stayed._

So maybe she indulged a _teensy_ bit. She was only human after all.

_Leaving wasn't what you wanted to do._

So what? It was what she _needed_ to do to survive and surely he of all people could understand that, couldn't he? Besides-

Her internal argument with herself ceased suddenly when she stepped into Granny's and found Ruby leaning over the counter with a large smile on her face, engaging in a conversation with…Hook. _What the-_ Emma's brows pinched together as Ruby said something to him that caused him to throw his head back and laugh. Her smile widened in response and Emma's vision hazed red around the edges.

"Hey Sheriff!" Somebody called, snapping her out of her trance just as Hook turned in his seat to look at her.

She glanced away, offering one of the townsfolk a tight-lipped smile as she side-stepped out of his way. When she looked up again, she found that Hook was still watching her. Across the room his eyes shone brightly blue and her stomach clenched involuntarily. His expression was unreadable though and she resisted the urge to fidget nervously under his unwavering gaze. It was pride that had her steeling her resolve and lifting her chin as she squared her shoulders back before striding towards the counter. She averted her eyes only to fix Ruby with a heated glare as she stopped right at Hook's elbow.

The brunette pushed off the counter, sensing Emma's disposition, and tipped the corners of her mouth up politely. "Hey Ems, hot cocoa?"

"Please," she replied curtly.

Ruby and Hook exchanged looks, unspoken words passing between them as she left and Emma couldn't help but scowl. She was just about to say something to him when he abruptly rose from his seat and made to leave as well.

"See you later, wolf girl," he called playfully to Ruby, flashing another one of his charming grins at her.

Emma wanted to bare her teeth and snarl.

He paid her no mind, moving his stool back into place before sauntering off without a word or so much as a glance towards her. She sat there frowning, utterly confused and conflicted about the emotions settling in the bottom of her stomach. Jealousy? _Jealousy?_ Pfft, _please_. Emma Swan did _not_ do jealousy.

When the bell on the door chimed, she glanced up and waited about two heartbeats before she was off her chair like a shot and storming after him. He was just turning the corner and heading towards the docks by the time she caught up to him.

"Hey," she said, walking briskly behind him. Her brow furrowed at his lack of response. "_Hey!_" When he continued to ignore her, she hurried to block his path then glowered at him, noting the surprised look on his face before it carefully went blank again. "What the hell was that?"

He rolled his eyes then maneuvered around her so that he could keep walking. "What the hell was what?"

"Don't give me that crap, you know what!" She said, placing herself in his path once more. "That…_scene_ with Ruby in the diner!"

The second the words were out she regretted them, but it was too late. He was already raising his brow at her and giving her _that_ look and good God, she could already feel the heat coming into her cheeks and why did she even go after him in the first place? She mentally slapped a hand over her face.

His arms crossed over his chest as his lips pursed and he studied her with amused eyes. "And what…_scene_ exactly would that be?"

She scoffed, unable to look at him or believe she was even having this conversation with him. "You know what?" She held her hands up and pressed her lips together. She wasn't retreating; she was just done – with him, with all of it. "Nevermind, forget it."

He caught her arm when she tried to move past him. "Now wait just a moment, lass…you started this, so finish it," he demanded, his eyes intense and challenging on hers.

Emma shrugged roughly out of his grasp, her skin burning from his touch even through the material of her jacket. Damn him. "Your behavior in the diner was inappropriate," she spat, feeling backed into a corner, though the words sounded ridiculous even to her ears.

His brow quirked again and she mentally hit her head against the closest wall.

"With Ruby?"

"No, with Granny," she snapped sarcastically. "_Yes_, with Ruby! She's practically _my Godmother_ for Christ's sake and you- you were- you were flirting inappropriately!"

Hook stared at her silently for several seconds before he was leaning over his knees and howling with laughter. "Are you hearing yourself, darling? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?"

She wanted to crawl in a hole and die; instead she mentally buried her head in the sand and whimpered. "Oh, screw you." And with that she turned on her heel to leave.

This time it was he who blocked her path, only he did it with a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. She wanted to slap him.

"A little jealously too much for the Princess to handle?" he mused, reaching out to playfully fluff her hair.

The smug, mocking tone in his voice made her cringe and her temper spike. She smacked his hand away. "Shut up, I am _not_ jealous. And I'm not a princess!"

He chuckled at that. "Oh, but the fire in your eyes and the roses in your cheeks-" He stroked the back of his fingers over her heated skin. "Say otherwise, _your highness_."

Again she slapped his hand away. "You're an ass."

"Ah, an old and tired conversation," he smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes anymore. "As is this endless game we're engaged in."

Emma rolled her eyes and turned around to walk away. If he wouldn't move, fine, she knew a dozen other routes to get back to the diner. She was not going to allow him to push any more of her buttons.

"No retort for that one, eh sweetheart?" Hook called after her, his voice suddenly harsh. "What exactly is your problem? Hmm? You don't want me – you made that abundantly clear a few mornings ago – but no one else is allowed to?"

She shook her head against his words, though which part of them she was disagreeing with, she couldn't be sure. It wasn't that she didn't want him – even she could admit that – it was that she _couldn't_ want him because of the risks that it entailed. But could she stand to see him with someone else? God, the thought alone made her want to punch something.

"Emma," he said, keeping to pace with her. "Goddamn it, Emma, you need to decide which it's going to be because I can't do this anymore. You know how I feel, you know what I want."

The pleading in his voice made her want to scream in frustration, but not with him, with herself. She halted her steps and he bumped into her. When she spun around, he backed up a few paces and she was glad for it because she couldn't take being so close to him with that _look_ on his face – the one that scared her shitless because it made her want to give him everything.

"I don't know how I feel! Or what I want!" she exploded, beginning to pace restlessly as her hands tangled in her hair at the scalp. Too much, she was feeling too much. "I mean, _God_, Hook! I don't- I can't- _God._"

He shifted towards her like he wanted to touch her, to sooth her, but she automatically moved out of his reach. He stopped, his face hardening, and she wanted to cry.

"It's past time you figured it out, love," he told her quietly.

Their eyes held for a long time – both of them silent, both of them unmoving. It was she who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand fisting and pressing to the spot just under her breastbone as if she was trying to keep it together. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. I need…I need to think."

Her head bowed as she turned to leave again, then with a heavy heart, her footsteps began to carry her away. She needed to be the one to go, because she wasn't sure she could take the sight of _him_ doing it.

Back in town, Emma sat on the bench at the bus stop feeling…lost and near tears. Stupid pirate. This was all his fault. He just had to be so persistent. He just had to worm his way into her life until he'd gotten to her. She pressed her lips together to fight back the emotions. Well, now what was she going to do?

It felt like she was standing on the very edge of a precipice, just a breath away from making the jump and taking the fall and she just couldn't do it. Why couldn't she just do it?

The buzzing from her cell phone drew her thoughts away and she scrubbed her hands over her face to collect herself before reaching for it. There were no tears, thank God, but she still sniffled as she read the text from her father.

_Urgent, need to talk. Where are you?_

Emma frowned as she typed her response. _About what? On my way. _

Buzz. _Stuff…_Buzz. _And that kid, Michael._

Emma's frown deepened but that caught her attention, all thoughts of Killian slipping from her mind as she typed her response. _What about him?_

As if on cue, Michael appeared a few blocks down from behind a building, strolling up Main Street with his hands in his jacket pockets. He crossed the street and Emma lowered her head but kept her eyes trailed on him. He seemed distracted, which would explain why he hadn't noticed her, and Emma decided to jump on the opportunity. Her phone buzzed again but she ignored it, replacing it back in her pocket as she rose from her seat. When he was a safe enough distance away, she began to follow him.

* * *

By the time Michael had reached the well, the evening was just settling down around the town. He glanced up at the sky as he walked up the last few feet of incline; he'd always loved evenings in Storybrooke. They were far away enough from the city so that the stars glimmered like a million tiny diamonds, especially on clear nights like this one. One particular star, the second from the right, winked once at him and he smiled fondly.

Against a star-filled backdrop, his father often told them the tales of Neverland late into the night. When he was a boy, he'd sit on Killian's knee with wide, incredulous eyes and listen as he painted vivid tales of mermaids and Lost Boys and Shadow Pan. Sometimes he would lay his head in his mother's lap and she would stroke her hand through his hair as his father's voice lulled him to sleep. They were sweet, precious memories that left his heart heavy with emotion and strengthened his resolve to finish what he had come to do.

He sighed, shoulders tight with anxiety as he stopped in front of the well. The last time he'd been here, he'd made the mistake of opening the magical veil between times. Thank God it had been closed before any real damage could be done. He hadn't been expecting Dark Emma's magic to be powerful enough to reach across realms. In truth, he had underestimated her; he wouldn't make that mistake again, the veil would remain closed and he would end her madness here.

He took a deep breath, finally stepping up to peer over the stoned top of the well. His image reflected back at him in a mirror of still water, a young man with brightly blue eyes, unruly dark hair, and a soft round chin – a perfect combination of his parents. He sighed again.

Face set in determined lines, Michael pulled out the compass he had managed to steal from Killian's ship a few weeks ago and prayed that the enchantment he was about to cast would work. Years and years ago, his parents had set out on a journey to find this very thing. It led them to each other once; it could and would do so again. It had to. He refused to believe otherwise.

Placing the compass down on the well, he took a moment to center himself. Eyes closed, he inhaled then exhaled a few times as his mother had taught him. The magic was like a constant hum under his skin, always at the ready for him to conjure it. When he was ready, he waved his hand over the well and he could feel the added magic from the waters dance soothingly over him, waiting for further direction. He was just about to send the enchantment into the compass when he was suddenly hit from the side.

Michael went down, _hard_, and his attacker wasted no time pinning him to the ground, arm crushing against his windpipe and shortening his already stolen breath. From childhood he'd been trained in combat, given his lineage it was no surprise, so it was easy for him to gauge that his assailant was smaller than he. His grandfather had taught him to be quick in hand-to-hand so before he could lose any more air, he braced his leg against the ground and easily squirmed free exactly as David had drilled him to do if he ever found himself on his back in an assault.

He caught the other person off-guard and used the half second of surprise to flip them over and give himself the advantage. He managed to avoid the elbow to the face but ended up with a fist in the gut that winded him again and made him curse.

"I knew it!" she raged. "_I knew it!_"

Michael blocked the jab to his face, gripping at her wrist as she tried to buck him off. "_Sheriff?_" he cried, barely having time to process that she'd caught him. _Well, shit!_

"You have magic!" she spat, her voice angry and accusing. "You're from _there_, aren't you? _Son of a bitch_, I knew it!"

"Mo- Emma, Emma wait-"

"_Wait?_" She gave him a wry laugh then attempted to nail him with her elbow again. "I am _done_ waiting-" To prove her point, she managed to squeeze her leg between them and kick him off of her.

He grunted as he went down a second time, all of his training going out the window as his mind frantically tried to come up with _something_ to say that she _might_ believe.

She pounced on him, eyes flashing dangerously as she gripped the collar of his shirt. "Alright, kid, that's it. No more games, no more lies! Start talking! And you better hope I like what you have to say!"

"Okay, okay," he soothed, fingers closing around her wrists pleadingly. "Easy, relax! I don't know what you're talking about, what do you mean magic?" It was instinct to keep up the façade even if he'd already been made – he at least needed to _try_ and preserve the illusion… "And where is 'there-'"

"Cut the crap! You have been lying from the very beginning and I want to know _why_!"

Michael glowered at her silently, struggling to free himself from her grasp. They fought with each other again, and then Emma slammed him roughly back. He grimaced in pain as his back hit the ground once more.

"You are trying my patience, _who are you?_"

"I'm just a kid!" he replied. "And since when has it been a crime to take a walk in the woods-"

"In the middle of the night?" Her brow went up at him.

"I like the cool evening air!" he retorted, his own brow mimicking hers.

"Conjuring magic?"

He tried for a laugh. "Magic? What are you- that's nuts! I don't know what-"

"Stop!" she cut him off, her eyes boring into his. "Just stop it already! I _saw_ you! No more lies, Michael! _Who the hell are you?_"

When he remained silent, her grip on his shirt tightened and she jerked him up onto his elbows. Her voice went threateningly quiet. "Do not make me ask again."

"Alright!" he cried angrily when she shook him. "_Alright!_"

He shoved her away, glaring up at her as she rose to her feet and stood over him. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, damn it! He'd been trying to avoid this at all cost, but…she knew more than she should have and he no longer had a choice than to tell her the truth about him – about all of it.

"My name is Michael Nolan Jones," he spat, his voice defeated, but he held her gaze steadily. Her brow furrowed and it tugged at his heart, his did the same thing whenever he was confused or trying to understand something.

"Jones? But- but I thought your last name was LeBlanc?"

He rolled his eyes at her, sitting up all the way and sighing. "LeBlanc is a variation of my grandmother's last name; I used it to conceal my identity."

Emma stared at him, her expression unimpressed. "Okay…and?"

"Her last name is Blanchard, the root word, Blanc, means-"

"White," Emma finished in frustration. "What exactly is your point, kid? My mother's last name-" She cut off abruptly and he knew the precise moment she made the connection. He watched her eyes widen as she shook her head.

"Is Blanchard in this world-"

"No," she told him, an edge of panic in her voice as she backed away and continued to shake her head. "But your middle name-"

"Is Nolan," he said, his voice soft as he looked away briefly then back at her. "I was named after my grandfather."

"No. No, that's impossible. If they're your _grandparents_, that means that you're-"

"Your son?" he finished for her. He chuckled and rubbed his hands over his face before nodding at her. _God, he'd messed up._ "Yeah…yeah." He sighed and watched her, a face he knew so well and a heart so far away – it hurt a little bit, he wouldn't lie. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hi Mom."

She goggled at him, jaw practically hitting the floor in shock. Her head would not stop moving back and forth. "No," she repeated. "No, that's impossible."

Michael kicked restlessly at a pebble near his shoe. "You said that already."

"That's _insane_! That means that you had to have come from-"

"The future?" He glanced down at his grown form and shrugged. "Well, obviously."

"Hey!" she exploded. "You don't get to be a _smartass_ right now, kid, not after…_that_!"

She started to pace and he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up, it reminded him of the nervous habit his grandfather had.

"This is nuts," she muttered in disbelief. "I have to be dreaming-" And then she halted mid-step as something else seemed to dawn on her.

He'd been waiting for her to make that _other_ connection as well.

"Jones," she murmured, her brow pinching in thought. "_Jones._"

When she whirled on him, he pressed his lips together to keep from grinning.

"Who the hell is your father?" she demanded.

Michael's brow quirked, on purpose, and he knew by the look on her face who exactly it was she was thinking of.

"Oh," she scoffed incredulously, putting more distance between them. "Now I _know_ you're really out of your mind."

He simply smiled and let her study him from across the space, knowing he favored enough of his father that she'd see the resemblance when she was ready to. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot, her eyes moving over him.

"Fucking hell," she cursed suddenly, her hands tangling in her hair at the top of her head as she turned away again. "_Fucking hell!_"


End file.
